


Darkness and Light

by Rheynin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Sexual Tension, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Caught in the Act, Cheating, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Cumplay, Dark Cullen Rutherford, Dirty Talk, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Japanese Rope Bondage, Jealous sex, Jealousy, Kinbaku, Lyrium Withdrawal, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pining, Porn, Revenge Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shibari, Smut, Spanking, Spit Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 70,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheynin/pseuds/Rheynin
Summary: A dark Cullen fic. Not gonna mince words- he’s kind of an asshole sometimes. Fortunately, Sparrow kinda likes that. After all, it’s hard to resist a bad boy who also happens to be a good man.An unhealthy relationship that gets better as they both deal with their demons and learn to trust others.*very minor dubcon (voyeurism) and some semi-graphic details involving hallucinations and drug withdrawal
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Blackwall/Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor & The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Blackwall, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull & Female Trevelyan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 125





	1. Attempted Escape

The bindings bit harshly into her wrists as she fought against them, trying to reach the rasp hidden in her shoe. Her knees were bruised, aching, and her shoulder was screaming in agony, but she nearly had it . . . .

“Shit!”

She felt something in her ankle give, twisting painfully beneath the weight of her body. Probably sprained, but the rasp was in her hand now. As quickly as she could, she slipped it into the opening at her wrists and began working it back and forth. Soon, the metal clamps sprang open, and her hands were free. As she began to work on the ones around her ankles, she glanced around. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in a position like this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. There was a small window overhead- with any luck, she could-

Suddenly, the door opened, a warm light washing over her. A dark haired, armored woman came crashing in, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to the ground.

“You see what she does? The mercy of living, and she tries to escape! She MUST be guilty!”

Sparrow snarled from her place on the ground, wiggling underneath the dark haired woman’s knee.

“What the HELL are you talking about? Why am I here?”

“You murdered the Divine! I ought to kill you now.”

Sparrow spat at the woman’s foot. “Fuck you. I killed no one.”

The dark haired woman’s companion, a slight figure wearing a hood, pulled her off of Sparrow’s prone figure.

“Cassandra! She is our only lead. Without her . . . .”

Pain shot through Sparrow’s hand, a bright green glow flaring from her palm. The brighter it grew, the farther through her body it throbbed. It was a scorching ache, like putting her hand in a fire, and it made her curl in on herself, crying out with the intensity of it.

“What the hell is that?” Sparrow screamed as it dulled.

“That,” the hooded woman said, taking her wrist, “is why you are still alive. Now get up.”

The hooded woman helped her to her feet, reclamping her wrists as the other woman let loose the bonds at her feet. When she was done, she began pacing around, looking her up and down.

“What do you remember? How did all of this start?”

Sparrow sneered. “No fucking idea. These . . . things . . . just started chasing me, and some woman reached out-“

“A woman?” The two figures looked at one another.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will deal with her.”

With a nod, the hooded woman left, meaning Sparrow was alone with Cassandra. As she rounded on her, Sparrow squared her shoulders, ready for a fight, instead finding herself being dragged forward.

“Look, just what the hell is going on here?”

With a slightly gentler voice, Cassandra answered.

“It will be easier to show you.”

She lead her out of the dark room, into the blinding light of day. Rows of figures lined the snowy pass, mocking her as she walked by them, taunting her with jeers and threats. The sky above was dark with clouds, all swirling around a sickly green gash, the same color as the mark in her hand. For a few moments, she could do nothing but stare. Then, Cassandra grabbed her elbow, urging her forward.

“We call it the breach,” she said as they walked. “A massive opening into the world of demons, allowing them to slip easily into our realm. It’s not the only one, but it is the largest, and it opened right after the explosion at the Conclave.”

She gave her a pointed look before ushering her further through the crowd, speaking quietly the entire time.

“If we do not find a way to close it, it may swallow our entire world. Each time your mark flashes, the breach grows, and so does it.”

As if on cue, an enormous green bolt shot down from the sky. As her hand flared bright, the searing pain welled again, blocking out all other sensations. When the world returned, Cassandra was crouched on the ground beside her.

“It is killing you. We suspect it may be the key to stopping the breach, but we have little time.”

Sparrow looked up from where she was squatted, examining Cassandra’s face. A hard face, scarred- but hopeful.

“You still think I’m guilty?”

“Someone or something is responsible, and, as the sole survivor, you are our only suspect. Will you help us?”

“It sounds as though I don’t really have a choice. Either I help and prove my innocence, or I don’t and I die.” She chewed her lip, spitting blood to the side. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t do it. Why would I do this to myself?” She held up her hand, scoffing. “But we both know none of that matters. The frightened will find guilt even where there is none.” She stood, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “I will help. What do you offer me?”

She cut Sparrow’s bonds, freeing her.

“A trial. I can promise no more than that. But you will have a chance to prove yourself. We head to the nearest rift.”

They marched on for some time, passing more angry villagers, groups of soldiers, even the penitent in prayer. Each time the breach swelled, the mark on her hand flared, causing her to stumble. Cassandra caught her, then helped her steady herself, and they moved onward.

“They say you fell out of the rift, unconscious, a woman behind you. No one knows who she wa-“

All at once there was the crack of a lightning strike and a green flash, and the next thing Sparrow knew she was falling. She hit the wall of ice beneath her, cushioned only by her clothing and a layer of rubble. As she tried to regain her breath, something fell from the breach, hitting the ground near them. It rose in a cloud of ominous black smoke, a tall, shadowy figure that oozed towards them, full of malice.

“Get behind me!” Cassandra shouted, throwing herself towards the approaching demons. 

A quick glance at her surroundings revealed an abandoned staff, laid across a shipment waiting on the surface of the frozen river. She didn’t think twice before rolling to it and picking it up, flinging both hands out towards the demon closest to her. She felt the magic building inside of her, roiling beneath the surface. A few muttered words and it condensed, solidifying into a sharp white ball in her hand. One throw, and the demon was thrown backwards. With a screech of rage, the demon staggered upright, redoubling its attack, but Sparrow was ready. Three more balls were throw in quick succession, until her enemy collapsed on itself, disappearing in a whisper of smoke. Cassandra dispatched her last enemy, then rounded on Sparrow, sword outstretched.

“Drop your weapon, NOW!”

Sparrow smirked as she tossed the staff aside. “Fine. You really think I need a staff to harm you?”

“That’s supposed to reassure me?”

Sparrow held up her hands, the first two fingers of her left hand extended. A small bolt of lightening jumped from her fingertips to the palm of her other hand.

“Yes, actually. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead by now. What good would that do me? The only thing a staff does is provide a focal point, a way to guide the magical energy. A good mage . . ,” she blew on her palm, and a flurry of snowflakes left it in a rush, “doesn’t need one.”

Cassandra’s jaw worked hard as she thought, then there was a ringing as she slid her sword back into its scabbard.

“Fine. Keep your staff, and help rid us of these demons.”

Sparrow grinned, following closely behind Cassandra as they fought their way through wave after wave of demons. The more blood and ichor she got on her, the larger Sparrow’s smile grew. She thrived in chaos like this, letting her magic fly free and unrestrained. No Circle, no rules for her. Just the raw, electric crackle of her power, destroying whatever got in her way.

When the last demon was felled by an arrow from a smirking dwarf with a crossbow, Sparrow let her arms fall to her side, meaning to take a breath. Instead, some egg-headed elf grabbed ahold of her wrist, forcing it towards the rift above them. Before she could wrench herself free, a bolt shot from her palm and into the rift, closing it.

For a moment, she stood stunned, staring from her palm to the empty space where the rift had been. She wasn’t often left speechless, but this was definitely one of those times. When she recovered, her head snapped around towards the elf.

“What did you do?”

“Not me. The mark. I suspected it could close the rift, and it seems I was right.”

Sparrow spat,then muttered a few words under her breath, and the others watched as the elf’s face grew tight with anger.

“It’s wonderful that you speak Elvish, but I’d hardly call that polite language for company, even if they don’t understand it.”

With that, he stomped off in a huff. The dwarf walked over to Sparrow, chuckling.

“You could be a little nicer to Solas. He did keep the mark from killing you while you slept.” She raised an eyebrow, and the dwarf extended his hand. “Varric Tethras. And this,” he patted his crossbow, “is Bianca.”

“Sparrow Nightshade.”

Cassandra called from further down.

“To the forward camp!”

When they finally arrived, Leliana was waiting for them, along with a sour man wearing religious garb. The two seemed to be embroiled in a bitter argument. Sparrow felt certain she knew exactly what, or rather, who, it was about. She was proven right as she approached, and the man pointed at her.

“There she is. Arrest her, immediately.”

“Chancellor Roderick!” Leliana burst out.

“I order you to take her to Val Royeaux to face charges. She must not be allowed to leave!”

Cassandra looked somewhere between angry, scandalized, and amused.

“You- order me? You’re no more than a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!”

“You supposedly serve the Chantry, thug!”

Leliana butted in. “We serve the Most Holy, as you well know.”

“She is dead. We will elect a replacement, and then see what HER thoughts are on the matter.”

Sparrow chuckled dryly. “Ah, so no one’s in charge then. But, for future reference-“ her gaze aimed daggers toward the chancellor, “I prefer NOT to be talked about as if I’m not here.”

Ignoring her, he pleaded with the two women to call a retreat, denouncing the position their troops held as hopeless. Swearing they’d lose more lives, he asked them to change their plans. As the three argued, Sparrow grew more and more agitated. Finally, she slammed her palm on the table.

“We’re really going to worry about petty arguments while that’s in the sky, hanging over our heads?”

She gestured to the enormous rift hanging over the Temple of Sacred Ashes. At that very moment, the sky roared, green flaring so brightly it seemed to cover everything. Pain tore through her hand, rushing like lightening through her body as she screamed, falling to her knees. Leliana and Cassandra rushed to her sides to help her stand, noticing anxiously that her forehead was covered in beads of sweat from the pain, her dark hair hanging limply over her eyes. She doubled over again, retching twice, then shook her head.

“Whatever we’re doing, let’s do it now.”

When they reached the area where the Temple had once been, all that was left was a dark, smoking crater, littered throughout with charred bodies, frozen where they’d been standing during the explosion. The further in they drew, the more bodies there were, and they grew more . . . twisted, barely recognizable as human. At the very center of it all, high above, lay the largest rift yet, a gaping hole in the sky, like a festering wound. With every pulse, every flash, Sparrow’s hand ached more. It felt almost as if the mark were reaching to it, longing to be a part of it.

They continued downward, to the area beneath the rift, and as they approached, a deep booming voice called out, followed by the voices of two women. Sparrow recognized one as her own, but the other-

“She called to you,” whispered Cassandra. “Most Holy called out to you . . . .”

The rift began flashing furiously, spewing lightning from deep within. Suddenly figures appeared. One wore the white robe of the Chantry, her face weathered by a long life. The other wore only black, the dark clothes of a thief or a spy, intended to blend into the shadows.

“That’s me . . ,” Sparrow breathed. “But why-“

The figures began to move, voices echoing across the cold stone. There was a vague familiarity about it, but she could remember nothing she was seeing. What had happened?

“Echos, from the past.” Solas crept up behind her. “Likely of what happened here. The rift here is closed, but not sealed. In order to do so, we will have to reopen it first.”

“More demons,” muttered Sparrow, “just lovely.”

Soldiers began falling into place around the temple, steeling themselves for a fight. As Sparrow flung her hand towards the rift, a sharp, static crackling began, sparks flying back and forth between her palm and the opening. It opened wide- and before them materialized the largest being she’d ever seen, outside of a dragon. It was as if someone had taken a giant, coated it in stone, and doubled its width. To make matters worse, other demons began to drift out of the rift around it, stealing their focus.

Sparrow lifted her staff, feeling the heat of magic growing within her again. This time, she fueled it with anger, sorrow, and every regret she’d ever had, until it swelled so large within her she felt she might burst. Then, she focused on the raging beast before her, and a bright ball flew from her chest, straight into the demon’s. 

That only seemed to make it angry, so she spent the next few moments deflecting attacks while she tried to find a good spot to relay her own attack from. Squatting down between two stone figures, out of sight of the lesser demons, she tucked her staff beneath her arm, curling her hands over each other. This time, she thought of green things, growth, vegetation and renewal. It hit home, staggering the demon, but not as much as she’d hoped it would.

Still undiscovered, she took a deep breath. Once more, she focused inward, centering herself. Spring, growth- but also death. The cycle of life. Soul and spirit, shadow and shade. For every light, there is dark, and everything must be in balance. The purple ball floated up from her, and she aimed it towards the beast. With one swift breath, it was gone, bursting across his back and temporarily freezing him. She used that time to raise her hand, aiming its power at the rift and weakening it.

It was a delicate dance, between the large demon and the smaller ones, Sparrow and the soldiers, but finally, finally, the demon fell. Sparrow made no hesitation in climbing across the rubble, finding the point closest to the rift, and raising her hand. As the others looked on, the green glow from her hand grew brighter and brighter, washing over her. It pulled power from the rift, drawing it down to her, and then the flow changed, with the rift growing brighter, and her palm dimming.

It was a fight between the two sources, evenly matched except for Sparrow’s determination. The rift would not prevail, she would be sure of that, no matter the cost. She poured all of her willpower into the closing force, gritting her teeth. Sweat beaded on her forehead, despite the cold, and the onlookers held their breath. The rift began to swell dangerously, pulsing with menace, and Sparrow planted her feet farther apart, more firmly against the stone.

The ebb and flow of power lasted for what felt like an eternity, draining Sparrow’s reserves to nothing. She could feel the magic being pulled from her body. After the fight with the demon, she had little left to begin with, but a few potions had helped. Now, there were no more, and it was a fight for her life, and the lives of everyone present.

With a great yell, she pushed out the last burst of magic she could muster, making the sky crackle in an explosion of black and green. When it waned, the rift was gone.

A cheer sounded throughout the valley, but Sparrow didn’t hear. Her body lay slumped on the stones, limp, with blood trickling from her nose and mouth.


	2. In Haven’s Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *minor smut*

When she woke, at first Sparrow didn’t move, afraid it would cause her aching head to burst. She’d had hundreds, if not thousands of hangovers before, but not one compared to what she was feeling just then. Her mouth was dry, making her crave water more than anything else, and her body felt as if she’d tumbled down the largest mountain in Thedas, catching every rock on the way. Carefully, she sat up, groaning in pain. There was a soft gasp, and she saw a young elven maid with her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Oh- I must get . . . please, please don’t . . . .”

“It’s alright,” Sparrow murmured, “I’m not gonna-“

“Lady Cassandra said right away! I must get her!”

The elf sprinted away, mumbling to herself and leaving Sparrow very confused.

Cullen struck at the training dummy again, sweat rolling down his back and slipping into his armor. The recruits were resting after their morning exercises, but Cullen was far too wound up, all his thoughts on the woman they were now calling the “Herald of Andraste”. 

He’d been at the Temple when she’d fought, but had been preoccupied with making sure no one but the demons were killed. Then, as she closed the rift, she’d only been a distant figure, surrounded by a greenish glow. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her until they’d been loading her to bring her to Haven, Solas muttering his soft spells over her hand the entire while. The first thing he’d noticed was the staff, and a shiver of cold dread had run down his spine. A mage. Already tainted with magic, and now she had control over the rifts, as well. What if she were to decide she would rather side with the demons? She was already against the law, a thief or a spy, why would she choose the right side in this battle?

He’d been given the job of guarding her as they traveled, partly at his own insistence. She hadn’t moved on her own the entire way, save once, when her head rolled to the side, and her hair had fallen away from her face. Maker’s glory, she was stunning, with wide eyes and full, soft lips the color of the sweet red berries he’d eaten in his youth. Thick, dark eyelashes fluttered as she moaned in her sleep, the sound lodging itself deep in his memory, surfacing again and again in his dreams. Delicate hands, curvaceous hips, and full, ripe breasts that strained the front of her tunic, both accented by the corset she wore.

He’d been taken with her immediately, hating himself for it more than he could possibly express. She was supposed to be the savior of Thedas, not fuel for his fantasies, and, on top of that, she was a mage. She represented only temptation and corruption. He might no longer be a Templar, but he still served the Chantry, and such thoughts were beneath him. Still, his traitorous mind returned to her again and again.

He paused, gathering some water to splash across his face, but it did nothing to cool the heat inside of him. Andraste, his hands were shaking again. 

“Get ahold of yourself, Rutherford. You’re better than this.”

“Cullen?” Cassandra called from behind him. “Are you alright?”

He gripped the sides of the barrel harder, trying to steady himself, and nodded. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, eyes widening as he turned around.

“Cullen . . . you’re shaking.” She drew closer to him, lowering her voice. “You should get some rest.”

“I said I’m fine, Cassandra!”

He shrugged off her hand, storming out of sight. When he reached the edge of the forest, he let himself collapse against a rock.

When Sparrow opened the door to the small cabin she’d been in, she was astounded to see rows of people lining the walkway, all staring at her. As she passed them, they gasped in excitement, soft murmurs rippling along I the form of prayers and blessings. By the time she reached the door of the main building, she was properly bewildered.

She followed the sound of voices, opening a door to find Cassandra, Leliana, and the Chancellor from before once again deep in argument. As soon as he saw her, the Chancellor ordered her to be put in chains, and Cassandra ordered the guards to ignore it. Bored, she watched them bicker about her for a while, until something Cassandra said caught her attention.

“Wait a minute. I thought you wanted me dead. Now, suddenly I’m your savior?”

“You were exactly what we needed, when we needed it. I believe you were sent by the Maker, to help us.”

Sparrow laughed, unable to help herself. “Me? Sent by the Maker? You MUST be joking. A mercenary, a spy and a thief? A mage?”

“The breach remains.” Leliana stepped around the table. “And your mark is the only hope we have of closing it.”

“That is NOT for you to decide!” Screamed the Chancellor.

Cassandra slammed a giant book on the table.

“This is a writ from the Divine authorizing us to act. I now declare the Inquisition of old reborn.” She looked up at the Chancellor, crossing the room to put herself in his personal space. “We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we WILL restore order, with or without your approval!”

She punctuated every statement with a finger to his chest, until she had him nearly in the doorway. In a great huff, he turned and stormed away, and Cassandra closed the door behind him, sagging slightly. As she returned to the table, she shook her head, while Leliana spoke.

“The Inquisition. We have no leader, no numbers, and now- no Chantry support.”

“But we must act now. We need to band together against this chaos, what ever this means.” Cassandra looked at Sparrow. “And we need you at our side. We have to do whatever must be done, United beneath a single banner. We must fix this before it’s too late.”

Shaking her head, Sparrow replied. “This is really, REALLY strange. I don’t understand any of it, not really.” She sighed heavily. “But . . . I won’t sit idly by while the world is destroyed. For now, at least, I’m here.”

Cassandra nodded, then made a dismissive gesture with her hand, preoccupied with the logistics of formally declaring the Inquisition. As no one there seemed to need her, Sparrow wandered off, wanting to familiarize herself with the grounds and all those involved. By the late afternoon, she’d mostly decided who she did and did like at Haven.

Varric was familiar, though they’d never met, by virtue of both his stories and his reputation. He’d been stunned to learn she knew of some of the less savory activities of his past, a few of which he’d hoped to keep hidden. Once he understood she had no intention of betraying that, they became fast friends, sharing the same smart-assed, sarcastic view of the world. 

Solas was a lost cause. He seemed to resent the fact that she was present almost as much as the Chancellor did. Leliana was too reserved, too standoffish for a proper conversation, but Threnn and Adan were both amenable, asking her for some help in getting supplies.

As she passed through the front gates of Haven and into the training yard, Cullen laid eyes on her in close, conscious proximity for the first time. He drank in every detail of her figure, from the sway of her hips as she walked to the tilt of her head as she approached Harrit, the blacksmith. The thick layers of black she’d first worn had been discarded, much to his discomfiture, for tight leggings and a bodice-hugging leather vest that pressed her breasts together deliciously.

He found he couldn’t take his eyes off of her for a moment, frozen to his spot beside the training tent even as she turned to look at him. Maker, he knew she could tell he’d been staring, but he still couldn’t look away. Arousal swelled within him, dangerous thoughts of the way her body would feel beneath his, the sweetness of her mouth. He was hardening inside of his trousers, doing all he could not to press the heel of his palm against himself. If he couldn’t get his mind on something else, and quickly, he’d soon find himself in an incredibly compromising situation.

He was about to look away, turn the frustration rising within him to training instead, when she caught his gaze. Their eyes locked across the snow, and he suddenly felt as if his soul had been laid bare before her. A deep ache started low in his stomach, twisting, rising in his chest like flames. The air seemed too hot, his armor too oppressive.

He tore his gaze away, staggering into the woods again. He needed the silence, he needed the cold to dampen his desire. Internally, he cursed her. It was as if a desire demon had taken hold of him, twisting his natural impulses into wickedness.

When he found a nice, isolated area surrounded heavily by forest, he stopped, leaning forward against a tree. One arm rested beneath his forehead, the other reached low, his hand fumbling frantically with his laces. Maker, how he ached, how he needed a release of the tension she’d wound in him. When his laces were undone, he pulled his glove off with his teeth, tossing it to the side as his warm, bare hand wrapped around his cock.

He closed his eyes, picturing her the way she’d looked laid on the cot as they brought her to Haven. Her eyes closed, red lips parted as her head tilted to the side. Sweet Andraste, those lips would look so beautiful wrapped around him, her dark eyelashes fluttering in desire as she tilted her head backwards to take him in. She’d feel perfect, he knew she would, that warm, wet mouth around him, her tongue stroking against the underside of his cock, drawing him to completion.

He groaned into his forearm as his hand pumped faster, the mere thought of his seed in her mouth making his hips jerk forward. Maker he wanted that, wanted her, wanted to get up to the filthiest things. To hell with sex, with lovemaking and all those gentle euphemisms- he wanted to fuck her, hard and dirty, leaving them both breathless and exhausted. He wanted to bury his face between her legs on the Chantry floor and make her scream his name, to bend her over the war table and pound his cock into her until she couldn’t walk. She made him want to sin, to blaspheme, in the worst way.

He bit into his arm as he came, thick liquid spurting across the side of the tree he’d leaned against, dripping slowly down and spilling across the snow at his feet. The physical ache had subsided, but still inside of him, something yearned for her. His imagination couldn’t satisfy the part that craved her touch, craved the reality of her body.

As he returned to the training grounds, burning with shame over what he’d just done, a recruit came running up to him.

“Commander? Lady Cassandra wished to see you in the war room.”

He nodded his thanks, swallowing hard. Being summoned to the war room meant only one thing, and, considering what he’d just done, he hoped he wouldn’t die from the mortification.

Sure enough, when he entered, the table was already surrounded by figures. Though her back had been towards him, the noise of his entry drew her attention, and Sparrow turned to face him. He tried his best to walk coolly to the opposite side of the table, but his knees threatened to give out on him as he crossed the room. To his horror, Cassandra began by introducing him immediately. He felt like a naughty child as her gaze fell upon him, caught in the midst of causing trouble, and it took all his strength to look into her eyes. A smirk twitched at the corner of her lip as she acknowledged him, and then Cassandra had moved on to Josephine. Her eyes took in each person, but kept returning to him as the conversation moved on, distracting him. He hadn’t even realized she’d spoken to him until she raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“My apologies, Lady Nightshade. My mind was . . . elsewhere.”

She gave him a playful look, tongue darting out before she gently bit her lower lip, and, Maker forgive him, that tightness in his lower belly rose again. With a smile, she repeated herself.

“I was asking your opinion, Commander, on whether you thought the rebel Mages or Templars might be of more use to us. In aiding to close the breach, of course.”

She smirked, as if it were an admonishment, and the heat of embarrassment rose in his cheeks.

“Leliana favors the rebel Mages, and as a a Mage myself . . . .”

She let the words hang in the air, almost as if in challenge. Surely she knew he was a former Templar, and as such, he would favor them. If she’d known anything about what happened at the Circle-

“I disagree. The Templars would serve us best. They could weaken the breach, contain any damage.”

“Speculation,” Leliana countered. “We’ve no idea if-“

“I WAS a Templar. I know full well what they are capable of! If enough of the rebel Mages were to gather, they could destroy us all!”

“And that isn’t speculation, Commander?” Sparrow said coldly. “Tell me, do you distrust me, as a Mage? Or is it my shadowy past as a thief and a spy, my mercenary work? You are aware that I was not trained in a Circle, contained and broken, abused by the Templars like so many others? Do you consider me dangerous?”

As she spoke, her body began to glow a deep red color, with blue and white flames dancing on the surface of her skin. Her black hair stood on end, moving as the flames moved, and her eyes became solid black, sparkling like the night sky. In one raised hand, she held a bright white ball of energy.

Cullen laughed darkly. “Look at you! You are PROOF that it is foolish to approach the Mages. The Templars are disciplined, controlled-“

“Brainwashed,” she interjected, spitting at his feet. “Tell me, Commander, if they are so virtuous, why are you here? A fall from grace? Or were you just not up to the task in the first place?”

Cullen leapt towards her, held back only by the strong grip of Cassandra and Leliana’s body in his way. Sparrow loosed the ball in her hand, and it skimmed past him, searing his cheek before eviscerating the vase behind him. She stared at him with cold eyes as he strained to get at her, the muscles of his jaw tightening.

“That was a warning. Do not underestimate me, and do not infuriate me further, else my aim improve.”

“ENOUGH!” Cassandra roared. “This isn’t helping anybody.”

“It hardly matters, anyway,” said Josephine. “At this point, neither group would speak to us.”

“But there is something you can do,” countered Leliana. “There is a Chantry cleric nearby, tending the wounded in the Hinterlands. Her name is Mother Giselle, and she has asked for you. Speak with her. She knows those involved, and may be of great use in our situation.”

Sparrow nodded, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving Cullen with Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. As Josephine began to speak, he cut her off.

“Josephine, don’t. I’m not interested in a lecture on proper diplomatic behavior.”

He moved to walk away, and Cassandra shoved him backwards. Leliana approached from behind.

“Honestly, Cullen, what exactly was that about?”

“You insulted the Herald!” Cassandra finished.

“This is MY fault? Did you not see her, the way her anger flared? She threw a ball of MAGIC at me!”

“I saw you insult Mages in front of the most important person within the Inquisition, who also happens to BE a mage.”

“Josephine, honestly-“

“I don’t care what your personal feelings are, you must put them aside,” Leliana admonished. “This is about far more than Mages and Templars.”

Cassandra poked at Cullen’s chest. “THAT fight is why we are here in the first place.”

Cullen sighed, resigned. “What do you expect me to do?”

“You could start by apologizing,” spat Cassandra. “And then, try to reconcile your feelings about Mages. What happened was-“

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Cullen,” Cassandra implored, “you cannot live your life trapped by the past. You must find a way to move on. Isn’t that why you came here?”

She was right, of course. He wanted to stop letting what had happened in the past define him, to create a new life, find a new purpose. Instead, he was running right back to old habits.

He would apologize. Tomorrow. That would give them both time to cool off, and him the opportunity to craft an appropriate response. He knew full well how ridiculous his actions had been, but he’d been thrown off balance completely. Since the Conclave, and the breach, he felt as if his entire life had been thrown into chaos. He could find no solid footing, no way to center himself and focus. Training had once been enough, but now he felt as if he were against a wall, unable to break through. He decided, at last, that his life was at a tipping point, poised on the edge of something important. It would fall, eventually, one way or another, but he had no idea what was at the bottom, or what it would mean for him.


	3. Finding Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *minor smut, voyeurism*

Cullen rose early, as always, eager to leave his nightmares behind. Normally, he was the only one out at this hour, when the dark of the sky was only just beginning to fade, but on this occasion, there was a figure standing out against the horizon already.

Sparrow.

He sighed, steeling himself and walking over to where she stood. For a long moment, neither spoke. She only stood, watching the sunrise, her arms folded across her chest, while Cullen’s eyes fixed on her. She really was lovely in this light, he thought, looking more gentle and vulnerable than she had even unconscious.

He cleared his throat, but she spoke first.

“Nightmares.”

How could she know about that? Had Cassandra told her? But no, she’d swore to keep it quiet, unless it became a problem. As he looked at her in confusion, she turned to him.

“I have nightmares, so I don’t sleep much. What about you?”

Relief washed over him.

“Oh, I, um . . . I tend to get up early, as a habit.”

She nodded, then turned back to the sunrise. For a moment, Cullen fidgeted, wavering, then he decided to speak up.

“Listen, Lady Nightsh-“

“Sparrow,” she interjected. “I’m hardly a lady. Pirate might be more appropriate, or vagabond.”

He laughed softly, prompting her to cut her eyes towards him with a gentle grin.

“In all seriousness, Lad-“ he caught himself. “Sparrow. I’d like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It wasn’t kind of me to speak to you the way I did, or to speak of Mages as if they were-“

“Insects?” She shot him a glare, but only half-heartedly. “No, it wasn’t. You were an ass, Commander.”

“Cullen,” he returned. “And yes, I was. There was no excuse for it. Whatever my personal feelings about Mages are, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“You might as well.” She turned towards him. “Look, I have no idea why you feel the way you do about Mages, and, honestly, it matters little. But if I insult Templars, don’t you take it personally? Even though you’re no longer a Templar?” She sighed. “I don’t want to be someone’s exception. It’s small minded and petty. Either you’re willing to treat people as individuals, or you group them into stereotypes. I am not ‘a Mage, but . . .’, I’m ‘a mage, and . . .’, it’s a part of me. I could hide it, but it wouldn’t change, and if I lost my magic, I would still remember who I’d once been. To pretend otherwise is foolish.”

“I suppose I understand. Although I still have my doubts about Mages, and your fireball certainly didn’t help.” He rubbed his cheek, still red.

She laughed. “Sorry, but you deserved it. Try not being an ass sometime- you might find you like it.” She paused, then continued. “When was the last time you fought a Mage?”

“Not since the Circle.”

“Spar with me.”

“I beg your pardon?

“Spar with me. You apparently carry a great deal of animosity towards Mages, so let’s get it out of your system.”

“I’m not certain that’s-“

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

Her eyes glittered with mischief, eyebrow raised in a taunt. He should walk away, he knew. It would do no good to take the bait, to let her play whatever tricks she had planned. 

Then her eyes began drifting downward, taking in his form as her tongue darted across her lips. That knot of heat flared within him again, wicked thoughts breaking down the barrier of reason.

“Alright.”

She used her magic to draw a glowing circle in the snow, holding up her staff.

“Stay inside the circle. Whoever steps out of it loses.”

She smiled. “Are you prepared, Commander?”

The way she said his title made it sound like an invitation, raising the dark heat of his lust. A wry smirk twisted his lips.

“Absolutely.”

He held his shield ready, his sword at his side, while Sparrow stood still, smiling. When he made a half-hearted lunge, she blocked it easily with her staff. Still, she made no attack. He faked charging at her, and she didn’t flinch.

“If you’re trying to lull me into a false sense of security, it won’t work.”

“You’re not even trying, Cullen.”

He lowered his shield, charging at her, and she only stepped out of the way, meaning he nearly stepped straight out of the circle.

“Where’s the man who was ready to leap across the table at me? Do I need to insult you, make you angry so you’ll fight me? You’re supposed to be working out your aggression towards Mages!”

“You’re not even moving. It hardly feels fair to attack a woman standing still. And you’ve used no magic.”

Lazily, she gathered a ball of white light onto her fingertips, tossing it at him. He deflected it with his shield, sending it flying into the trees. At the same time, she sent a small bolt of lightning towards his feet, making him jump. With a roar, he raised his sword, intending to catch her shoulder, but it glanced off of an invisible barrier. They traded near misses over and over as the sun rose, neither managing to get an advantage, neither one leaving the circle.

“You fight well, Commander.”

He nodded, moving to keep her in front of him. “As do you.”

“I think perhaps we should call this a draw. The recruits will need training soon.”

“If you wish.”

She waved her staff, the circle disappearing below them, and Cullen lowered his sword and shield. When he’d returned them to their proper place, he reached a hand out to her.

“Thank you. It was good to do more than just train, for once.”

“It was my pleasure. Hopefully, we can do it again sometime.”

“I would like that.”

She turned to walk away, tossing a last minute comment over her shoulder.

“Next time, I suggest we try something a little more physical.”

She left that afternoon, heading to find Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands. While she had some excellent advice, what made the largest impression on Sparrow were the innocent people who’d been caught in the war. Neither Mage nor Templar, these were people whose only crime had been existing too close to one group or the other. Neither side seemed to care how many lives, how many homes were destroyed in their fighting, so long as they won. People were starving for lack of food, freezing for lack of shelter. Still the war raged on.

“They’re fools, all of them,” she’d tossed at Cassandra one afternoon. “All these people want is safety and security, and they provide the opposite.”

“That is why the Inquisition exists. Help them, if you can, and we can change things.”

And she’d helped. What should have been a week turned into a month, and Sparrow only left then because Leliana insisted. Apparently, her actions in the Hinterlands had drawn a great deal of attention to the Inquisition. Clerics that had been on the fence were now choosing to support them, and a few lesser known nobles were sending donations. According to Cullen, more recruits were pouring in every day.

“How are they doing? Are they alright, do they need anything?”

“More training,” Cullen grumbled. “Most of them can barely handle a sword, and their shield work is sloppy. I can hardly keep up with how many of them need help, and-“ he stopped, shaking his head. “My apologies. I’m sure you don’t need to hear every detail. I’m used to this sort of thing, it’s just that, lately, I find myself frustrated by it, that’s all.”

She gave him a smile, lowering her voice so that only he could hear.

“Let me know if you need to work off a bit of that frustration. I’m sure I can find something for you to do . . . .”

With a start, he turned his head towards her, but she’d already started walking away. He cursed her under his breath, doing his best to focus on the training, but the thought wouldn’t leave his head. Had she actually been implying what he hoped, or was she only taunting him, trying to see if she could rile him up?

By late afternoon , he’d given up on training, too frustrated to be much use, especially with the headache he was nursing. Too wound up to rest, he headed out to the logging stand, hoping it would tire him out. Before long, he had his armor off, absorbed in the work of splitting wood. It was good work, something productive that didn’t require strategy, and he was beginning to feel calm- that is, until he heard a shout from nearby.

“MAKER’S BALLS! ANDRASTE’S HOLY TITS! BASTARD, STUPID BASTARD! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!”

He walked to where the sound was coming from, only to find Sparrow throwing rocks, branches, and snowballs at the nearest tree. Unable to help himself, he started laughing.

“Shove it up your ass, Commander.”

“Yes, Herald,” he chuckled. “Whatever you say. What’s the matter?”

“I fucking hate nobles. Boring-ass pricks who think they’re owed the world.”

“Obviously. What happened?”

“Some bastard comes waltzing in, claiming he owns the land that Haven’s on, and that the Inquisition has no right using it. Says he only gave permission to the Chantry. He really wanted to throw everyone out! Josephine didn’t take it kindly when I told him to shove his ownership- well, she interrupted me before I could say.” She sighed. “So why are you out here?”

“Training wasn’t going well, you saw that. I kept getting more frustrated and angry.”

He sat on a rock beside her, watching her sulk for a few moments before she turned to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without armor before. Isn’t this about the same as you running around naked?”

“Well, it’s hardly appropriate to chop wood in full armor.”

“Oh. . . chopping wood-is that what you call it?” She smirked at him. “Working out that frustration, all alone . . . you could’ve asked for help.”

“What- wait, no, that’s not- I wasn’t-“

“Why? Have you taken vows of celibacy or something? Is that part of the requirements of being a Templar?”

“No, it’s not. I mean, some may, to prove their devotion, but . . . no. I haven’t.” Her previous words rang in his head. “Wait- what do you mean ‘I could have asked for help’?”

“Are you still frustrated?”

“Not . . . not really, no.”

She hummed to herself. “Pity. Because I am, currently, VERY frustrated. It would’ve been nice to work through that with someone else. I guess I’ll do it alone, then.” She stood, dusting off her pants and waving to him. “Goodbye, Commander. If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters . . . ‘chopping wood’.”

He sat, stunned, watching her disappearing in the distance. 

“Chopping wood”?

Oh.

Oh Maker.

She was . . . Andraste preserve him, that was a thought he’d never get out of his head. And she’d . . . .

Maker’s breath, he really wished his brain would move faster sometimes.

A part of him wanted to chase after her, throw her to the ground and take her in all the ways he’d fantasized. A rapidly hardening part of him. But it was broad daylight, and Haven was crowded with people. Wherever they ended up, it was certain they’d be heard, and that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with, not with everything else going on. 

Sparrow slammed the door of her quarters, leaning against it in a huff. Andraste’s sacred knickers, was the man completely devoid of intelligence? She’d practically thrown herself at him, only to be rebuffed, and now, here she was, alone. Again. She hadn’t been with anyone since before the Conclave, and toying with herself at night was becoming completely unsatisfying. She needed someone else, a lover’s touch, a warm body to hold. She wanted to be utterly wrecked, drained and shattered and completely incapable of walking. And he’d stood there, stripped to his leathers, with his broad shoulders and perfect hair and IMPOSSIBLY firm ass, drenched with sweat and making her wet just by LOOKING at her.

Maker, she could kill him. After she rode him, of course.

She stomped to her chest, rummaging until she found the liquor she’d brought from the Hinterlands. If she was going to spend tonight alone again, she’d be damned if she was going to remember it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rutherford, just GO!”

He stood in his tent, pacing as he tried to get the courage to go to Sparrow’s quarters. She’d practically invited him earlier, after all, he’d reasoned, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Even if she hadn’t been asking him to bed her, he could always use the opportunity to get to know her. Hadn’t he promised Cassandra he’d try to get more comfortable with Mages? Yet, somehow, he couldn’t get his feet to move, no matter what he said to reassure himself. What he’d been craving, what he’d fantasized about for WEEKS now was right at his fingertips, and he was hesitating.

Finally, he gave himself a good slap, took a deep breath, and ducked out of his tent. 

Moments later, he was knocking on her door. As he waited, he bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. He was terrified she wouldn’t answer, and terrified she would. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him? He knocked again.

“Lady Nightshade?” He tried again. “Sparrow? It’s Commander Cullen.”

He thought he heard her speak to him, so, assuming she was preoccupied with something, he pushed the door open gently. He slipped inside, then closed the door, locking it for good measure. 

“Sparrow?”

A groan came from the bed, and he passed through the entry to find her, his eyes falling upon a sight he though might stop his heart. She hadn’t called out to him, not consciously, because she was fast asleep. She was also completely naked.

He should look away, he should leave her in privacy. He knew that, but a large part of him couldn’t be bothered to care. She was so utterly, unfathomably perfect, and he wanted this sight burned into his memory for eternity. That wild, black hair spread across the pillow. Her lips, soft, wet, and parted just so . . . Maker how he wanted to touch them, but not as much as he wanted to take those perfectly abundant breasts into his hands, dark nipples hardening beneath his touch. To run his tongue around their edges, take them into his mouth.

He nearly groaned aloud at the thought. Already his hand was running along the front of his pants, thinking of the ways he’d use this image later, and he hadn’t even taken in her full measure.

She had a perfect body, of that he had no doubts whatsoever. Her hard muscles were covered with soft flesh, particularly across her belly and thighs. High, defined waist, perfectly dimpled hips, and, between her legs-

Cullen gasped at the sight. Whatever she’d been doing, whatever she was dreaming about, it must have been extremely enjoyable, because she positively glistened with wetness, the plump bud of her clit burgeoning from between her lips. Oh, Andraste preserve him, how he longed to wrap his lips around it, to lap at the sweetness there. 

By the time he found the presence of mind to leave, his cock was straining at the front of his pants, aching to be set free and dealt with. Maker’s mercy, this woman was going to be the death of him, one way or another.


	4. Haven Sent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *definite smut, withdrawal symptoms, hallucinations*

“You MUST be joking!” Scoffed Cullen. “What good would THAT do?”

“I’m afraid I agree with Cullen,” Sparrow intoned. “I seriously doubt that having me speak with people who hate me already is going to help us.”

Cullen smirked over the table at her, and she made a mental note to never agree with him again. He’d been insufferable enough since the afternoon he’d rebuffed her, and it was getting to the point that just hearing his name made her unreasonably angry.

“At least the Herald has SOME sense,” he muttered.

Smug prick.

“I’ll go with her,” Cassandra volunteered. “We’ll use the names Mother Giselle provided us with. SOMETHING must be done. Right now, neither the Mages nor the Templars are willing to talk to us.”

When she returned, she had two others along. The first was an elf named Sera, who couldn’t seem to take anything seriously. She and Sparrow got on well, unsurprisingly. The other, to Cullen’s great annoyance, was a Mage, named Vivienne. As if there weren’t enough magic around already.

He was stalking towards Cassandra to complain when he heard a shattering sound in the woods. Immediately, he took off, expecting someone trying to attack Haven. What he found was Sparrow tossing things into the air and exploding them with her magic.

“Fucking bastards! Pricks! Assholes!” With every outburst, another pine one or twig was destroyed. “Fucking Chantry! Fucking Templars!”

Cullen stepped up, grabbing her shoulder roughly and turning her to face him.

“Lady Nightshade! What is the meaning of this?”

“Oh, I take it you haven’t heard?” She sneered at him. “In Val Royeaux, we met the Chantry alright.” She shot another bolt of magic into the air, eviscerating a passing leaf. “They had called the Templars forth.”

Cullen relaxed. “Excellent. Then-“

“To protect the people from the Inquisition!”

She growled in her fury, looking for all the world like some feral beast. Cullen’s face morphed into confusion as she finished.

“Not only that- oh no!” She broke a branch from a tree, tossing it high and bursting it into a shower of hot ash that fell across Cullen’s shoulders. “No, the bastards THEN decided to punch the fucking cleric in the face!” She looked at Cullen. “I admit, I was a bit glad of that. But the smug fucking BASTARD claimed he had some sort of DIVINE RIGHT to rule- over the people, over the Chantry- as if he were the only one who could fix this world! The Chantry calls us to humiliate us, the Templars intend to silence us- I can’t STAND it!”

She threw three snowballs up at once, exploding them in rapid succession.

“You must be mistaken. The Templars would not-“

“I know what I saw.” She spit at his feet, cursing. “Templars are a black mark upon the world. They should all have to bear the chains they once forced on others.”

The next thing Cullen knew, she stood looking at him in blind fury, her hand scarcely covering a growing red welt on the side of her face. Blessed Andraste, he’d hit her.

Before he could form an apology, she’d launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground with surprising strength. Her staff was cast aside, forgotten in her anger. Cullen did his best to scramble backwards, away from her, but she was too fast, landing astride his chest to land blow after blow on his face. He caught her leading arm, using both of his hands to try to stop the punches, but she only continued with her free arm.

After much struggling, he managed to wedge his foot up, allowing him to reverse their positions and landing her on her back. With the weight of him and his armor on top of her, she could scarcely breathe, much less fight, but she certainly tried. Her arms flung wildly at his head, catching him once across his neck and twice on his ear, until he got them pinned above her head. Then, she tried to slam her forehead against his chin, but he managed to dodge it, tucking his head into her neck.

Hot, frantic breaths puffed white in the cold air as she struggled beneath him, and he tried to catch his breath. Maker, she was a fighter, absolutely fearless and interminable, even without magic. 

“Cullen . . ,” she groaned, wriggling beneath him, and he pressed his weight harder against her hips, tightened his grip on her wrists. “Your armor . . . your sword . . ,” she panted.

It took him several long moments to realize what she was saying. When he did, he moved to free her, only wounding her more deeply in the process. When she finally emerged, there was a deep cut above her hip, and a gash down the side of her leg.

“Maker, Sparrow, I didn’t . . . I’m so-“

“Bloody Templars!” She growled at him, then stomped away.

Hours later, when they were called to the war room to discuss the events of Val Royeaux, Cullen entered slumped over in embarrassment. His face bore the marks of Sparrows attack, bruises already blossoming there. Most of those in attendance assumed only that he’d had a poor training session. It wouldn’t have been the first time a recruit had gotten out of hand, or slipped, and he’d been injured.

Then Sparrow entered. Much to Cullen’s shame, her entire cheek was swollen, in hues of purple and blue, and she could barely open her eye. Both her hip and her leg were visibly bandaged- she’d made no effort in hiding it, and he wondered if it was intentional. The entire room stared, save Cullen, who’s eyes were trained on his feet.

Cassandra gasped. “Herald, what happened to you?”

“Ask your Commander,” she said coldly, staring at him with daggers in her eyes.

They looked between the two, taking in the extent of their injuries. It was obvious what had happened, and while Josephine huffed, Cassandra called to Cullen.

“Commander, I would like to speak with you outside. NOW.”

As soon as they were around the side of the building, she shoved him, hard.

“THIS is what you do to the Herald of Andraste? The symbol of all we have worked to build? You ATTACK her?”

“Cassandra-“

“No. I don’t want to hear it. There is NO excuse for your behavior. It could undermine everything we are trying to do here! If we cannot keep peace among ourselves, how are we to bring order to Thedas, how are we to be trusted to close the breach?” She sighed. “Cullen, I know you are going through a difficult situation right now, but you MUST control yourself. Otherwise, I will have you removed, do you understand me?”

He nodded, and she relaxed a bit.

“Now. You must find some way to make this up to the Herald, and I don’t believe a mere apology is sufficient this time. Whatever it is, it had better be good.”

She turned, heading back inside and leaving him alone with his thoughts and bruises. 

Make it up to her? How in Andraste’s name was he supposed to do that? He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t even want to LOOK at him right now, much less talk to him. He’d made a complete ass of himself, AGAIN- no, this was worse than making an ass of himself. He’d been an impudent prick. Maybe she was right about Templars, after all.

But she’d fought as well, and made a hell of a showing. His face ached, and he wondered if she might have fractured his cheekbone. There was no doubting he’d get questions from the recruits, and the story would probably spread all over . . . making the Inquisition look worse. Cassandra was right. He had to gain some kind of control.

After Cullen had left the war room with Cassandra, the rest of them had filed out, with Josephine asking to speak privately with Sparrow. Once they were closed up in her office, she sat behind her desk, tapping her fingers nervously.

“Josephine, what is this about?”

She sighed. “As you know, Leliana is our spymaster. She is in charge of not only keeping track of enemy movements, but also the Inquisition’s reputation. This means knowing everything there is to know about everyone and everything we are involved in, before anyone else can find out.”

Sparrow definitely didn’t like where this was headed.

“She’s done something research on you, your connections, your past, and . . . .”

Here it comes.

“I DO wish you had told us you were descended from nobility, Lady Trevelyan.”

Sparrow grimaced. “I’m not ‘Lady Trevelyan’, and I’m not descended from nobility. I left when I was thirteen- before they had the chance to strip me of my titles and lock me away in Ostwick. I’m dead to them.”

“That is, unfortunately, not the case- not as they tell it.”

Sparrow’s brows drew down. “Then wh-“

“They claim you were lost. Kidnapped, to be more precise, and that they have been searching for you for years. I received a letter this morning, asking that they be put in contact with you. It arrived just after I read Leliana’s report.”

Sparrow scoffed. “Of course. I might become someone important, so they want to be connected. Typical. Always a step ahead, the Trevelyans. Anything that might bring them money or status. I want nothing to do with them.”

“I do apologize. Unfortunately, they are rather a well connected family. To draw their ire with the Inquisition in this precarious state . . . .”

“And they make me a prisoner, anyway.” She shook her head. “I know you need me to help you form a response, but I need a bit of time, especially after this.” She gestured to her face.

“Yes. You say the Commander did this to you?”

She shrugged. “Yes and no. It wasn’t entirely his fault. I said some rather cruel things about Templars in my anger over what happened in Val Royeaux.” She tried to smile, but it turned into more of a wince. “He’s got a hell of a backhand, you know. Anyway, I was looking for a fight, and I took the opportunity. I’ll do my best to not let it happen again.”

She retired to her quarters for the rest of the day, trying to figure out the best way to deal with her family. She wanted more than anything to refuse them, to leave them out in the cold. If she’d been on her own, she’d tell them exactly where they could put their kidnapping story, and it would make walking quite impossible. But Josephine was right. If she were less than polite, they would tear the Inquisition’s reputation to tatters before it even began. She couldn’t do that to the world, or to the people she was beginning to think of as friends. Not even Cullen.

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she thought of him, undressing to clean herself before bed. He was . . . something. Handsome, sexy, with a darkness within that she found irresistible. Such a fire inside of him, too. She closed her eyes, thinking of his weight on her chest, his hands gripping her wrists. So delicious.

Her hands wandered down the front of her body, toying with her breasts, teasing her nipples into stiff peaks. While one hand remained, cupping and squeezing, the other slipped further down, to the hot line between her thighs. Slowly, she parted her lips, exploring the way her body responded to thoughts of Cullen. His firm grip, pinning her wrists above her head. The sting of his slap across her thighs, her bottom. Maker, she was so wet for him, so needy as she began long, slow strokes, teasing herself. She groaned softly, biting her lip-

And then there was a knock at the door.

With a huff of frustration, she grabbed the robe draped over her chair, tying it closed as she went to answer. Whoever it was had better have a damn good reason for disturbing her.

Cullen could scarcely believe the sight when the door opened to him. Alright, he’d not quite accidentally seen her naked before, but, somehow, this was more enticing. Nothing but a thin silk robe, barely closed at the front. The swell of her breasts parting the fabric, every slight movement nearly revealing the bliss between her thighs.

Oh fuck. Cullen had been about the last person she expected to see, figuring he’d probably avoid her for at least a few days. Yet here he was, standing at her door. Her thoughts flashed back to what she’d just been doing and thinking about, and she felt her thighs grow damp.

“Lady . . . Sparrow. Might I come in?”

She nodded, stepping aside to let him pass. Oh, Maker’s glory, that beautiful bum was going to do her in. If he kept looking so delectable, her arousal would soon be dripping down her thighs.

“It occurs to me,” he said as he walked towards the bedroom, then stopped himself. “I . . . well, I believe I owe you yet another apology.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, I was cruel, and I was looking for a fight. It was just as much my fault.”

“No, I insist. I’m afraid I haven’t exactly had control of myself lately.”

The thought of him, out of control, in the bedroom- was he trying to make her wet, or was it completely coincidental?

“If you’d allow me, I’d very much like to make it up to you.”

He looked at her, beautiful amber eyes pleading and making her knees feel weak. Was he serious? Because if he was . . . .

“Alright, Commander.”

There was something in her tone that had him twitching in his trousers. He was already worried she’d see how stiff he’d gotten, just from the amount of skin that beautiful, blessed robe showed off. He couldn’t stop watching her as she went to the table, grabbing a cloth.

“I was about to clean up for the evening. You can tend my wounds for me.”

Was she serious?

She handed him the cloth, laying on the bed. “The warm water is over there.”

She pointed, and, as if in a daze, he walked over to the bowl, taking it and moving it to the nightstand. She patted the bed beside her, then leaned her face towards him. 

He sat where she’d asked, dampening the cloth and wringing it out. As he gently cleaned her face, his eyes kept darting further downward, to the curves of her breasts,and lower, to the dark area between her legs. Maker, he wanted to see, wanted her to spread her legs just a little more, let in a little more light.

When he’d cleaned her face, she flashed him a raised eyebrow, then nodded downward.

“My leg.”

She smirked, growing even more wet at the way he swallowed hard. He was definitely having trouble with this, and, judging from the bulge she saw at the front of his pants, she had him exactly where she wanted him. Well, almost.

He moved farther down the bed, watching with bated breath as she rolled to her side. The robe shifted, showing him the barest glimpse of her backside- not enough to satisfy him, but enough that he was certain the robe was the only thing she had on. As she slid her leg across his lap for cleaning, she nudged her foot against the hardness between his legs, making him groan softly. He was nearly certain she’d done it on purpose, especially with the smug grin she wore. 

If she wanted to play, he could play.

He took her leg in his hands, one resting just beneath her knee as the other carefully scrubbed. It wasn’t the worst wound, just a scratch really, so he felt no guilt about lingering over it, barely paying attention, as his palm slid slowly up the inside of her thigh. His fingers began to softly brush against her skin, moving higher and higher as he pretended to wash. He looked up to see her eyes closed, bottom lip held between her teeth, relishing his touch.

He drew his hand away suddenly, almost causing her to cry out as he sat up.

“Is that all, Lady Herald?” He asked innocently.

“It is not . . . Commander. I have one more, if you remember.”

With that, she rolled to her back, untying the knot that held her robe closed. With exaggerated care, she tucked one side between her legs, lifting the other to her waist. The spot where his armor had dug into her skin was worse than the one on her leg, but had been stitched carefully, and was already clean. Still, she looked into his eyes and spoke in a low, sultry voice that clearly contained an invitation.

“This one needs a bit of extra attention. But take special care, Commander. It would hardly be proper if your hands wandered a bit too far, or my robe were to accidentally open and expose me.”

Oh, Maker above, he wanted to tear the fabric from her body right then and plunge himself into her waiting heat, to give in to the darkest parts of his desire and rut into her like an animal. She was, unfortunately, still injured, and at his fault. 

As he put the cloth to the wound, he noticed his hand was shaking.

Andraste- not now, please, not now.

He dabbed at the wound carefully, trying to will his hands to quiet, to stop their trembling. He could do this, he could push through. She seemed to notice something was off anyway, asking him if he was okay. He gave her his best attempt at a charming smile, letting his free hand trace along the edge of her robe. His fingers ghosted along the bottom of her breast, drawing a shivering gasp.

“I’m quite alright.”

Her tension eased, and she lay back, enjoying the feel of his rough hands along her skin. Bit by bit, he let his fingers trace upward beneath her robe, until the velvet globe of her breast lay beneath his palm. It was a perfect fit, it’s soft weight delicious in his hand. A soft moan escaped her, and he felt her legs spread slightly.

His hand moved towards the other breast, pushing back the curtain of her robe to expose her. Maker, she was glorious, back arched, chest heaving with desire. The dark peaks of her nipples called to him, begging for the feel of his lips . . . .

Darkness rimmed his vision. Somewhere to the side, a voice called his name.

He shook his head gently, trying to clear his vision and force himself to focus on what was in front him. He wanted THIS, not some bleak vision, his head whirling with pain. If he just pushed forward-

She bit her lip as his hand trailed down, searching for the silken warmth between her thighs. The barest brush of his finger had her groaning, her legs spreading in invitation. Maker, she was so wet, even the slightest motion causing her hips to jerk against him. He wanted . . . he NEEDED to taste her, and now.

He slipped off the bed, kneeling, as his rough hands tugged her hips towards him. Anticipation had her already writhing, urgent mewling sounds falling from her lips as she threw her legs over his shoulders. Maker, how she wanted this, how she’d dreamt of it. She could barely keep herself contained as he leaned forward, tongue extended towards her aching-

Cullen’s vision began to swim, sounds of clashing swords and spent magic roaring in his ears. He could barely focus, the only reminder of where he was the sweet smell of Sparrow’s flesh. He tried to ground himself, to focus on her, the solid feel of her body against him, but he caught sight of her wound. As he stared, it opened, pouring out dark ichor and a flood of strange, mutated insects. He looked at her face, and suddenly it twisted, taking the form of a demon, a skull, then her own again, but covered with blood and viscera.

Cullen jerked away from her, standing, shaking his head to chase the visions away, but it did no good. Everything was wrong, his head hurt, and he thought he might vomit at any moment. He said nothing as he moved to the door, even as she reached out to him, calling his name. It was only as he turned, opening it, that he managed to speak.

“I . . . I have to go.”

The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Sparrow aching, bewildered . . . and, once again, alone.


	5. A Fine Predicament

He couldn’t face her. Not when every time he so much as looked her way, her eyes became cold, distant, her face pulled into a frown. He wanted her as much as he ever did, and spent far more time than he’d like to admit tucked away in some secret, private place with only his hand and the memories of the night in her quarters, before he’d ruined it all. 

To make matters worse, the last time she’d gone to the Hinterlands, she’d picked up two more stragglers, both men. One, a lonely Grey Warden named Blackwall who seemed completely taken with her, and the other, a Qunari mercenary who called himself “The Iron Bull”, large enough to make him look like a child. He certainly felt like one- an angry child who’s had his favorite plaything stolen. Both of them had taken residence near the training grounds, so he had to see them constantly, and watch the way she flirted with them, always touching them and leaning in close, trading secrets. It made his blood boil.

Whatever had caused Cullen to abandon her that night, he never explained, and he made no move to apologize or try again. She could see it wasn’t because he was uninterested- his eyes never seemed to leave her anymore, watching her like predator. Well, she was nobody’s prey, and she certainly wouldn’t be toyed with, left without satisfaction. If he wouldn’t give her what she needed, she’d find someone who would.

It was sheer luck that she’d been sent out to find Blackwall, to investigate the disappearance of the Grey Wardens, and better luck still that had brought her The Iron Bull. Both were strong, handsome, more than capable, easily Cullen’s equals. They were also incredibly flirtatious, which she used to her advantage every moment she could. She spent any time she wasn’t occupied with missions for the Inquisition out by the blacksmith’s yard, conversing with one man or the other. Nearly always, Cullen would make a point to situate himself close enough to overhear their conversations, and she made sure they were suggestive whenever possible.

Today, Cullen was taking the men through their paces, walking around them from all angles to check their form. He was being harder on them than he usually was, probably due in part to the fact that Sparrow had chosen just then to start a conversation with Bull about Qunari culture.

“Wait, so Qunari don’t have sex?”

Bull chuckled darkly, with Sparrow staring up at him. Cullen hadn’t heard what came before the question, but he was damn certain he’d hear the rest. He paused for a moment, just outside of the training area, pretending to watch from a distance. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Sparrow, the way she was looking at the man in front of her.

“Oh, we definitely have sex. There are Tamassrans who deal with it, any time you need it. Like, I don’t know- going to a healer or something. It’s not a big deal, just another basic function you need to take care of.”

“I can definitely see the appeal in that.” She looked over at Cullen, his brow furrowed and nostrils flaring. “So . . . you’ve never really made love before? Been with someone, body and soul, truly, fully connected?”

Cullen’s head was pounding, his jaws clenched tight with barely contained fury. Flirting! With that . . . that giant beast. As if she hadn’t been doing the same thing with him a short while ago. Temptress. He threw down his sword, stomping over to tell Cassandra to take over training, then headed into the snow to try to clear his head.

Sparrow watched Cullen stomp away, unable to help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction. She was definitely getting under his skin. One way or another, he’d have to do something- tell her why he’d run from her, ask for her attention, or just give up. She hoped for the first two, but, honestly? She’d take anything. Just so she got some kind of closure, not this open ended wondering. She still wanted him. Remembering the way his hands felt on her skin could send her into a whirlwind of fantasies, of all the things she wanted to do with him. But she wasn’t going to wait forever.

As luck would have it, a few days later she’d been going for a walk early in the morning, after another round of nightmares, when Blackwall approached her.

“My lady, a word?”

She smiled, walking over to him. “I’ve told you, call me Sparrow. Would you like to join me for a walk? We can talk along the way.”

He nodded, then fell into step beside her. She liked Blackwall, very much. He was certainly a good many years older, but he was eternally kind and polite- so much so that sometimes he almost seemed afraid of her. But he swore as much as she did, and had the same bawdy sense of humor, and the same tendency towards flirtation.

“I’ve heard rumors, my . . . Sparrow. Of abandoned Warden camps in the area. If we’ve the time, I’d like to visit a few. We may be able to find some clues there.”

Sparrow hummed in approval. “An excellent idea, Warden Blackwall.”

“Just Blackwall, if you please.”

She gave him another bright smile that sent his heart racing. She was an exquisite creature, that one. Delicate and beautiful, but with edges of steel, a kind heart, and a dirty mind. If he were ten years younger, in a different life, he’d make a move on her in a heartbeat.

“Blackwall, then. I’ll speak with Leliana this afternoon. I’m sure we can set something up.”

As they walked, they passed by the training grounds, right as Cullen was emerging for the morning exercises. Already leaning close to Blackwall, Sparrow just happened to “accidentally” stumble at the same moment Cullen’s eyes fell upon them. Blackwall caught her easily, his arm tight around her waist as he instinctively swept her into his chest. The two stood there, faces inches apart, as one of her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, the other trailing down his broad chest.

“Thank you, Blackwall.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob nervously as her voice deepened to a sultry whisper. “You know, you’re oddly charming, for a man I found wandering in the forest.”

Blackwall released her, cheeks flushed crimson as he straightened his clothing.

“I always considered myself more odd than charming. But, I suppose I’ll take a compliment from a lady. They are a bit hard to come by these days.”

She gave him a playful, seductive look. “Are you referring to compliments, or ladies, Warden Blackwall?”

“I . . . erm . . . both, I suppose.”

She could see Cullen watching them over his shoulder. He was paying rapt attention, clearly invested in seeing where the conversation went. It had been over two weeks since he’d left her aching in her cabin, he still hadn’t done more than stare from a distance, and she was dying for a good fuck.

“Well, I can’t help with the ladies, I’m afraid, but if you’re looking for compliments, I can certainly oblige. I have lots more of those . . . I keep them in my private quarters.”

She traced her fingers over his beard, almost, but not quite touching his lips. As she did he closed his eyes, clearly as hungry for touch as she was. With a light shiver, he opened his eyes.

“I . . . was not expecting that.” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “I shall consider your offer, my lady. Very carefully.”

She gave him a wink, then walked away, swaying her hips. If she’d looked back, she’d have seen both Blackwall and Cullen staring, hunger in their eyes. In Cullen’s case, it was coupled with a quiet rage he couldn’t quite define. He couldn’t stop the feeling of burning jealousy, of almost a sense of ownership over Sparrow, though he knew he had no right. It didn’t matter if he’d seen her first, or if she’d invited him first, because he’d still done nothing. He wanted to. There wasn’t a night that went by that he didn’t entertain the thought of returning to her, of finishing what he’d started. But he was terrified. What if it happened again?

True to his word, Blackwall did consider her offer. Nearly every night, especially when they were out searching for the Grey Warden camps. Something about being on the road with her for so long, only accompanied by Sera and The Iron Bull, made him fixate on her even more than he had to start with. He’d thought from the beginning that she was lovely, charming, with a fantastic sense of mischief. But, Maker’s Balls, could she tease him. Stripping to her smalls to bathe, not ten feet away from him? Offering to massage his aching shoulders, her breath hot in his ear? Scarcely a day went by that he didn’t have to find some way to hide his awkward arousal, and that’s not even including the times they were forced to creep through narrow passageways. She always somehow managed to place herself in front of him, so that the soft curve of her ass pressed against him, writhing and wiggling. On one mortifying occasion, during a particularly long trek when he’d already been thinking of her more than he should have, she’d actually caused him to spend in his trousers! Like a boy!

He felt like a boy around her, completely out of his depths. No matter how many women he’d been with in the past, that was another life. Besides, the women he’d been with all tried to play coy, acting like they needed some kind of convincing. She made no secret of the fact that she was interested in bedding him, though for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He wasn’t the young chevalier anymore, full of vigor and feeling indestructible. He was old- his back ached, sometimes his knees bothered him, and he’d gained weight in the past few years, despite his sparse diet. He could think of nothing she could possibly see in him.

Bull looked up as Sera and Sparrow came to sit near the fire with him. Blackwall had gone into the woods for a bit of “washing up”- but everyone knew that meant he’d just gone to relieve his aching balls.

“Still chasing Blackwall?” He asked Sparrow.

“Yes. But, Maker, he’s stubborn.“

“You know he thinks he’s not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, Bull?”

“Yeah. Well, think about it from his point of view. He’s got ten, maybe fifteen years on you, aching joints, some middle age spread going on. He’s a Grey Warden- they’re not exactly known for long lives, or stability. You’re ‘The Herald of Andraste’, young, beautiful, with great tits, by the way. He’s thinking he’s got nothing to offer you.”

“Fucking men.”

“Yeah,” Sera intoned. “S’why I don’t do swords. All broody and dark, too much trouble.”

“I’m starting to get seriously pissed off. First Cullen, now Blackwall. I’m beginning to think I’ll never feel a man between my legs again.”

“I can help with that,” Bull grinned, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

“I thought Qunari didn’t have sex with their friends.”

“Hey, I’m just offering. Besides, I’d consider this an unusual circumstance.”

“I’ll keep it in mind- though I think you’d probably ruin other men for me.”

Sera huffed. “Look, why don’t you just show up naked in his bed or something? He’s not gonna turn you down then.”

“She’s got a point, boss. He’d have to be crazy.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time . . . .”

Blackwall returned later, looking guiltily towards Sparrow again and again. He always refused to talk to her after his little sessions in the woods, at least until the next morning. As she lay awake that night, Sparrow was beginning to wonder if she was cursed. Both men she’d taken an interest in seemed to be taking great pains to avoid her. Cullen, she was beginning to suspect, had too many demons he was trying to keep to himself. She’d noticed his short temper, his shaking hands, but if he didn’t want to talk to her, she wasn’t going to push. She hated that he was pushing her away for it, but had begun to accept it. Blackwall, on the other hand, seemed too full of imaginary honor, seeing himself as something that could sully her. Thank the Maker he hadn’t found out she was nobility- not yet, anyway. He’d probably be kissing her feet every time she walked by.

Back at Haven, she was surprised to find that Cullen was in a slightly better mood than he had been, even managing a curt nod or two at her. Though he stared as much as ever, he looked a bit less sour while doing it. Once or twice, she’d made it a point to go and “watch the troops”- more or less giving him an opportunity to talk to her, but he didn’t approach. Eventually, she gave up hope that he ever would.

Truthfully, Cullen wanted to talk to her. He’d missed her immeasurably while she was gone, far more than he’d thought he would. For a while, he tortured himself with thoughts of her spending her nights in shadowy pleasure with Bull, or Blackwall, or occasionally both at once, pleasing her in ways he couldn’t even begin to try. Eventually, his head cleared, and his seething anger gave way instead to a dark regret. But what could he possibly tell her that would make up for what he’d done? The truth simply wasn’t an option. Her opinion of him was likely already low, he didn’t need to add more details, make it worse. He watched the easy way Bull and Blackwall talked to her, and wished it could be that simple for him. Blackwall was a bit nervous, yes, clearly over the moon for her, but still he managed to have actual conversations with her. 

Perhaps, when this was all over with, when the breach had been closed, and he was feeling well again, things could be different. He might be able to ask her for a walk, or to join him for dinner. Try for some sort of normal courtship. After all, he was no longer a Templar, bound by the rules of the order. He’d be free to live his life as he chose. 

Provided, of course, that she hadn’t already found someone.


	6. The Commander’s Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut

“I’ve decided we’re going to approach the Mages. After what I saw in Val Royeaux, I just don’t believe the Templars are right for this particular job. Perhap-“

“Are you serious?” Cullen was beside himself. “After all the questions you asked me, all of our talks?”

Sparrow sighed. “I wanted to make an informed decision. While your conversations were . . . enlightening, ultimately I just can’t see them as the right choice.”

“Maker’s breath- have you gone mad?”

“Commander!” Josephine hissed.

“Cullen,” Sparrow placed her hands on the table, doing her best to remain calm and rational. “I DID seriously consider it. I know how you feel, and I know you don’t agree, but this is MY choice to make. I’ve heard rumors-“

“Frankly, I don’t care what you heard. The Mages are unstable, prone to possession. Having that much magic contained in one place is a recipe for disaster. It’s bad enough to have you here, leading us-“

Sparrow’s eyes grew wide. She and Cullen had spent a fair amount of time talking since she’d returned from her search for the Grey Warden camps, and she’d thought they’d come to a sort of understanding, at least. She’d told him of the things she’d seen in her travels, the way Templars had been so callously, carelessly cruel to Mages. It had been a large reason she’d trained so hard to be able to do magic without a staff. Then, what she’d heard in the Hinterlands, about innocent people killed for standing too near a Mage, or looking too much like one, not to mention the Templars she’d faced for herself- it had made her sick to her stomach. He’d never even fully explained his opposition to the Mages, just spoken of a general distrust, and even then had admitted it was unfair.

“I didn’t know you felt that way, Cullen,” she said stiffly. “Now I’m certainly glad I didn’t let you sway my decision.”

Ignoring the stares from the others, she turned to Josephine.

“Please arrange for us to leave for the Hinterlands as soon as possible. I’ll be gone longer this time, as I must make the journey to Redcliff, and may need to spend a few days to make arrangements.”

With that, she turned and left, leaving Cullen standing with Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine staring at him. The first thing Leliana did was punch him hard in the arm.

“I cannot believe you just said that.”

“Look, I didn’t mean-“

“It does not matter what you meant. What you said was unbelievably cruel.”

He turned his eyes toward Cassandra, who shook her head.

“You are on your own for this, Commander. I have had enough of trying to teach you to be polite.”

Cullen sighed as he left the room. He hadn’t meant it like it sounded. It was just that the breach, the mark- all of it was already magic, and they barely even understood what kind. Then there was Sparrow, a Mage, pouring more magic into an unknown magical entity. To add even more seemed careless. He liked to be on solid ground. Besides, as a soldier, he knew the best way to win was to weaken your enemy, not try to make yourself stronger.

He chased after her, calling her as he saw her headed into her quarters. When she saw him, she considered ignoring him for a moment, then decided against it. If he had something to say, she wanted to hear it, whatever it was. As he approached, she steeled herself for what was to come.

He stopped in front of her, clearing his throat. 

“Herald.”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable calling me that?”

He sighed. “I deserved that. Might I come in?”

She stepped aside, letting him in, then closed the door behind him. She stood before him, arms crossed, waiting. After a moment, he ran his hand over his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I do mean it. I don’t know why I say these things.”

“I don’t know why you left me that night, either. Was it this? Because I’m a Mage?”

“No!” He countered. “At least, I don’t think . . . I can’t be sure.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s going ON with you? One moment, I think you’re flirting with me, then you argue with me, then you apologize, you hit me, you tease me and leave me ACHING for you, and then you insult me! I can’t handle this, not without knowing WHY.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

Cullen winced, her tone clearly hurt. “It’s personal.”

“Do you care for me at all? Truly?”

His hands flexed at his sides. “Yes.”

“But you won’t stay with me, you won’t tell me what’s going on, and you won’t trust my judgment?” 

It wasn’t a question, not really. She already knew the answer.

“I-“ he hesitated. “I’ve seen what can happen when Mages are unchecked. You haven’t. You can’t understand.”

“I’ve seen the damage that Templars can do. I’ve seen what happens to Mages who are broken. And this-“ she raised the hand with the mark on it, “this is only a taste of the power contained in that breach. At the Temple, when I closed the giant rift there, I felt how it tries to draw power, but also how power can be drawn from it. A Templar couldn’t understand that, that ebb and flow, nor the way it’s connected to me. In trying to weaken the breach, they might weaken ME. Even if the breach closed, it could cost my life.”

“Are you not willing to die for this?”

That cut her heart as much as a knife, and hurt twice as badly. With tears in her eyes, she answered.

“I am. But I won’t jump headfirst into death. Not when I believe there’s a better way.”

Cullen looked at her with cold eyes.

“Then we have nothing more to discuss.”

Sparrow watched him leave, utterly dumbfounded. He really believed that it was better for her to die than to trust Mages? If she hadn’t heard it with her own ears, she’d never have believed it. He might be short tempered, and too quick to speak, but she wouldn’t have guessed that he’d feel like that.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. Throwing a woolen wrap over her shoulders against the coming night, she stepped out of her doorway, intending to ask a Bull to join her for a drink. Under most circumstances, if she were sad, she’d have headed straight to Sera for a good laugh. Now, though, she needed someone who understood how to take things a bit more seriously than that. However, when she got to his tent, he was nowhere to be found, so she went to Krem.

“Where’s Bull?”

“He’s . . ,” he cleared his throat, “otherwise occupied. One of the Chantry sisters, I believe.”

She nodded her thanks, a wry smile twisting her lips, and headed to the next place she thought of.

“My lady- this is certainly a surprise.”

“Sparrow, Blackwall. And I need some company.”

“I’m not one to refuse a lady, but-“ he caught sight of the tears on her cheeks. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it, not right now. Have you got anything good to drink?”

He nodded, then ushered her inside. When they’d both put away a couple of stiff drinks, she told him what Cullen had said, both in the war room and in her quarters.

“Maker’s balls! I’d never have thought him capable of such cruelty.”

“Well, not everyone can be the perfect gentleman, Blackwall,” she said, giving him a smile that made his stomach knot.

“I’m hardly a gentleman,” he mumbled, pushing the bottle away from him. “I’m just a rough Warden. Spent most of my time in the woods. Makes this place look like a palace.”

“If we’re going to talk like that, I’m hardly a lady.” She stretched backward, exposing a line of flesh at her waist that a Blackwall desperately wanted to kiss. “Besides,” she said as she stood, “this place has everything you really need.”

With that, she moved to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“My lady-“

“Sparrow,” she corrected. “Come join me.”

“I . . . .”

He couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to decline, so he moved to sit stiffly beside her. Despite his best intentions, his mind kept returning to the thoughts of her he’d had, all of the fantasies he’d used as he spent across his hand.

“Do you like me, Blackwall?”

Desire painted a clear picture in her eyes, one involving her, and him, and absolutely no clothing. He shifted, swallowing hard.

“I . . . I have great admiration for you, my lady.”

“Sparrow,” she corrected again. And admiration? Really?” She laughed as she stood in front of him, shucking off the wrap she’d been wearing. He had a fire going, but, somehow, he doubted it had anything to do with that.

“Of course. You have the entire world at your feet.” He breathed heavily as she stepped towards him, stroking over his beard with one hand while the other rested on his shoulder. “Myself included.”

He started praying, internally, that she’d give up. Declare the whole thing a joke and leave him, have a good laugh. He’d endure that humiliation gladly. Because he knew if she kept going, he wouldn’t refuse.

Instead, she lifted her leg, placing her knee on the bed beside him as her hands cupped the back of his head. He tilted his face upward to find hers inches away, so close he could feel her breath across his lips. Closing his eyes, he tried to find the strength within himself to turn her away. As she lowered herself across his lap, he felt that strength waning fast.

“I can think of better places for you than at my feet.” She leaned closer, her lips ghosting across his. “Tell me, do you plan on just admiring me from afar, or will you take a more . . . intimate approach?”

Her tongue teased across his bottom lip as he let out a shaky breath. His willpower was holding only by a thread that was rapidly fraying, but he tried anyway.

“My lady . . . Sparrow,” he whispered to her, even as his hands found her hips, his fingers sliding beneath the soft fabric of her shirt, “I cannot- this is not what you want. Please, stop before I find myself carried away.”

She’d already begun the process of loosening his belt, letting it slide to the floor as she pressed her forehead to his. He was all but panting with desire, groaning softly the instant she slid herself across the thick bulge in his lap. 

“You deserve a man who doesn’t ache when the weather gets cold. Who can give you the pleasure you deserve, who can keep up and satisfy you better than I can.” 

His last ditch effort, appealing to her desire for a younger man. But she only laughed softly.

“Do you want me, Blackwall?”

He couldn’t lie. Not with her face so close to his, her arms around his neck. Not when he knew damn well that she could feel exactly how much he wanted her.

“Yes.”

A single, shaky word, barely audible. But enough. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his, nipping and biting as his hands tightened on her waist. His fingers slipped below her tunic, tracing the silken surface of her torso. Maker, she was perfect, she was everything he’d ever want in a woman. If this killed him, he would die a happy man.

Removing her shirt, she leaned to blow out the solitary candle he’d had for lightning, revealing her body to him in the dim light of the fire. Perfect breasts danced before his face as she mounted him again, her arms tight around his neck. As he caught one in his mouth, his tongue working over the supple flesh, she moaned deliciously above him, making his cock throb in anticipation. She could have him spending on her sounds alone.

Hurriedly, he tossed the fabric of his shirt aside, rolling her to her back beneath him. His eager hands searched for the band of her leggings, until she pushed them away in frustration to remove them for herself. He understood her feelings well, his own hands working fast at his trousers until he was naked before her. As she laid back on the bed, admiring him, he felt a momentary embarrassment. He wasn’t right for her, he wasn’t the young, firm body she deserved. But Maker, how he wanted her.

As he moved his body over hers, kissing the tender column of her throat, he whispered apologies in her ear, for the state of his body, for his eagerness, his rough hands, until she’d had enough.

“I know your body, Blackwall. I’ve seen you in the woods a thousand times as you spend on thoughts of me, and I see you before me now. I love your rough hands, your harsh, eager ways, and there is nothing wrong with your body. Especially this.”

She reached between them, taking his hard cock in her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Andraste, he was thick, her fingers barely touching around him. He groaned loudly, urgently.

“I should warn you, my lady, it has been . . . some time since I’ve been with a woman. Too many years wandering alone may have me quicker than you would like.”

She laughed beneath him, urging him towards her opening. “Blackwall, you have VERY capable hands, and a mouth I’m certain could be put to excellent use. I’ve no doubt you will leave me QUITE satisfied.”

He pushed into her, instantly losing himself in the velvet bliss between her thighs. Her nails scratched down his back, passionate moans in his ear as he buried himself deep inside of her, all the rest of the world lost to him. Maker, she felt so good around him. This had been a mistake, an utter tragedy, because now he knew he’d never be able to get enough of her, no matter how long or how often he was with her. She was a drug, addictive, delicious, and he would always want her.

Though she’d expected him kind and willing, and knew well that he had years of experience, Sparrow found Blackwall a surprisingly adept lover. No gentle man, he took her roughly, just as she’d craved, but paid full attention to her body, adjusting as needed without being asked. And, despite his claims to the contrary, he was quite vigorous.

“You’ve mislead me, Blackwall,” she panted, rolling him to his back.

“In what-“ he moaned loudly as her hips began rolling against his. “In what way, my lady?”

She closed her eyes, reveling in the way he filled her, the stretch she felt as she began riding him in earnest, chasing her pleasure. 

“I don’t believe you’re older than me by a day,” she laughed, though it turned into a gasp of pleasure as he gripped her hips hard, speeding her movements. “You’re far too vigorous.”

He pulled her face down to his, thrusting his tongue into her mouth hungrily. His hips bucked hard beneath her- it wouldn’t be long before he lost what little control he’d managed, but he was determined to get her there first. As he let her go, she sat up across him, giving him a perfect view of the way her breasts swayed with her movements. Unable to help himself, he cupped them in his hands, massaging them, as she reached between her legs to bring herself to the finish she desperately needed.

“I assure you, it’s entirely you. You enliven me, strengthen me with your passions.”

She smiled, throwing her head back as the crest of her orgasm began rising inside of her. Her hand moved faster as Blackwall took control of her hips, her soft mewls of pleasure pushing him to his own end. With a sudden cry, he lifted her off of him, his seed streaking across her thighs, her stomach. Immediately afterward, she came as well, her body stiffening across his as her voice rang her pleasure through the night. 

It was only after she’d left that Blackwall noticed the front window had been left open, allowing anyone who might have been passing by to see the shameful activities he’d just gotten up to with the Herald. It was fortunate, then, that the hour was late, and anyone who might have walked by had been in bed long ago. Without further thought, he closed the shutters, then retired to his bed, completely, blissfully exhausted from his time with Sparrow.

He’d been wrong, though. Not everyone had been in bed. Fearing nightmares and busy torturing himself about what he’d said to Sparrow, Cullen had been walking around the training area, trying to clear his head. He’d seen Sparrow as she sat across Blackwall, writhing on his cock. And worst of all, she’d seen him, as well. She’d seen him, and put on a show for his benefit, touching herself to show him what he’d missed. He knew without a doubt that had been the point. All of their flirting, and all of his cruelty, how could it have been anything else? 

Well, if she wanted to be the Inquisition’s whore, he would let her. Let Blackwall use her, use her until he tired of her and left her in the gutter, just like the rest of the world would do, as soon as the breach was closed. He could care less. 

As he went to bed that night, he almost looked forward to the nightmares he’d had of late. It would be satisfying to see her, covered in bugs, drowning in ichor, and begging him to save her. 

And he would walk away.


	7. Lost in the Mire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut

“What do you mean an entire group of soldiers has disappeared?”

Sparrow stood dumbfounded, staring at her advisors.

“It’s just that, I’m afraid, though we suspect they may be in the Fallow Mire.”

“Thank you, Leliana. Josephine, please ready us for a journey there. Securing the Mages will have to wait.”

“Oh, but you were in such a hurry before. Trying to gain favor by rescuing the soldiers?”

Sparrow gritted her teeth, trying to remain calm, but Cullen wasn’t making it easy. Ever since she’d announced she was using the Mages’ help, he’d given up all pretense of being polite. Instead, he was using every possible opportunity to try to tear her down with some rude comment or backhanded compliment. The only reason Cassandra hadn’t removed him was because Sparrow had asked for him to stay. She wanted him to see that the Mages could be trusted.

“Commander, I am rescuing our soldiers- your men, I might add- because it needs doing, and because everyone is looking to me to do it.”

“Yes, you like being looked at, don’t you?”

Silence fell across the room as everyone waited to see what her response would be.

“Not particularly, but if people are watching me, I figure they might as well get a good show.”

She glared pointedly at him before he pushed himself away from the table, leaving the room. Once the door had slammed behind him, Josephine sighed.

“I guess that is the end of our meeting.” 

As the others filed out, she approached Sparrow.

“I do apologize, Lady Tr- Lady Nightshade, but we still have the matter of your family’s request to discuss.”

Sparrow groaned dramatically. “Blessed Andraste, can’t they leave me alone? Find some other important relative?”

“I do sympathize. However, just this morning, we received another, more urgent request.” With a great sigh, she continued. “They are . . . threatening us, it seems. They say that if they do not hear from their ‘beloved daughter’ soon, they will assume that the Inquisition has kidnapped you, and will alert all pertinent individuals. I don’t mean to burden you, but we really must deal with the situation.”

“Yes, I know. Tell them . . . tell them I’m very busy with my work here at the moment, but that I’m overjoyed to hear from them after all these years. They’ll know I’m lying, but it’ll hardly matter to them. Then let them know that, once the breach is closed, we’ll have a grand celebration. They’ll be the guests of honor, and get the happy reunion they deserve. With any luck, I’ll be long gone before they arrive.”

Josephine gave her a polite nod, then scurried off to compose the letter, while Sparrow strode out into the hall. Vivienne stopped her before she managed to step outside.

“Darling, a word, if you don’t mind?” 

Sparrow stepped over to her, bowing her head politely, which Vivienne met with a smile.

“I must say, for being raised outside of a Circle, you’re surprisingly well mannered.”

“I’ve traveled extensively, and worked often among the nobility.”

Vivienne sighed. “Yet you still dress like a street rat.” She adjusted Sparrows clothes a bit, examining her. “Honestly, darling, a figure like yours shouldn’t be hidden. Anyway- I wanted to talk to you about recruiting the Mages. Though he’s been far less than tactful, Commander Cullen is correct that we must have protections in place against possession. Some of the recruits should be trained immediately.”

Sparrow nodded. “I’ll talk to Cullen about it as soon as I can.”

She found Cullen training the recruits, as usual, though he seemed to be working them a bit harder than he usually did, demanding near perfection.

“Commander! Could I speak with you?”

He threw his sword down, stalking towards her with a dark look in his eyes. His stance said he clearly wanted nothing to do with her, but at least he had the decorum to behave himself. Mostly.

“What is it? I was in the middle of trying to get these recruits into some sort of shape. Though honestly, I think we might do better if we just gave swords to the trees.”

“You’re hardly being fair. These soldiers are doing the best they can, under the circumstances.”

“And what is THAT supposed to mean?”

“All I know is that if someone were at MY heels constantly, barking like an angry Mabari, I’d find it a bit hard to focus, too! You could try being a little kinder.”

“Why? The enemy won’t.”

“But YOU, as far as I know, are NOT supposed to be their enemy!”

“Well then, why don’t YOU take over?”

Sparrow squared her shoulders. “Gladly. And YOU will be my partner. You should be more than up to the challenge, right?”

Cullen gritted his teeth, jaw working furiously. The last thing he really wanted was to spar with her again, especially in front of the recruits. But he also wasn’t about to let her pretend he was too weak to handle her. With a curt nod, he readied his sword and shield.

She turned to the waiting recruits “We’re not actually fighting, you understand? Just demonstrating the sort of thing you’ll be up against, and how to handle it.”

With that, the two parties stepped a few paces away from each other, then gave a nod to indicate they were ready. Readying her staff, she gathered a fire spell, then shot it towards Cullen. He deflected it instantly, letting it land harmlessly against a rock.

“Be aware of the color of spells that can be used against you. Red orange is fire. If you can, try to angle your shield so that it hits something inflammable, just as Cullen did. It won’t do you much good to deflect it if the grass beneath you catches fire.”

Cullen crouched slightly behind his shield before charging towards her. Before he could reach, she waved her staff, and glowing writing in the shape of a circle appeared on the ground around her. She managed to step out of the way, but only barely, and Cullen bounced off of an invisible barrier. While he was off balance, she threw a wide green burst at him, knocking him off of his feet. He lunged with his sword, but it glanced off of her harmlessly.

“Green. Spirit. Mostly passive magic, except for the mind blast that knocked him over. But this,” she pointed to the writing on the ground, “is what I want to show you. It’s a barrier. If you see this around a Mage, save your energy and just block. Wait for it to dispel before attacking. There is one benefit, however, if you’re lucky enough to have a Mage on your side.”

She pointed to a recruit standing nearby. “What’s your name, recruit?”

“My name is Hera, my lady.”

She was a slight figure, but with a fierce look about her, and Sparrow bet that by the end of it, she’d be a formidable soldier.

“Stand here, beside me. Hold up your shield, but I’ve a feeling you won’t need it.”

She dispelled the circle around her, then recast it with Hera inside. “Now, Commander. Charge at Hera please, a good shield bash.”

He did as was told, hardly putting his strength in it. He knew what was about to happen. Hera braced herself as he came at her, but he merely bounced off the barrier, less than a foot from where she was standing. Hera looked incredulously at Sparrow.

“A barrier will protect anyone who’s inside of it when it’s cast. It stays with the Mage, and if you move outside of it, you’re no longer protected. But it can be incredibly useful in combat, if you happen to have a Mage with you.”

She let Hera resume her place watching, and faced Cullen once again. This time, a purple flash shot from the tip of the staff, trapping Cullen inside a cage of electricity. To everyone’s surprise, he stayed still.

“Attacks of electricity will often come from above, and are paralyzing most of the time. That’s why the Commander isn’t moving. If he were to try to leave, he’d be at the mercy of whoever came along.”

She dispelled the cage, and Cullen resumed his defensive stance, stepping towards her and making various attacks, all of which she blocked easily. Then, suddenly, he charged towards her, sword outstretched. There was a momentary blue glow around her body, and the next thing everyone knew, she stood behind the Commander, who’s body was tipped with frost.

“Blue is ice, and you can see it’s results on your Commander here.” She turned to him. “My apologies, Cullen. I know from experience that’s not a comfortable feeling.”

He shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t bothered, and took a defensive stance across from her again. They traded a few more attacks, giving the recruits a better idea of the range of spells within the types. Finally, Cullen lunged at her again, and she stepped out of the way, but as he turned, she tucked the end of her staff between his feet, causing him to stumble and fall on his back. To his humiliation, there was a ripple of laughter. Sparrow turned to the recruits, giving them a playful bow.

“Always remember- a staff isn’t just a tool for magic. It can be used to trip, poke, and bash just as easily. Many Mages also have blades or other weapons attached to their staff, so don’t rely on them to make attacks of a magical nature.”

She reached her hand out to help Cullen stand, but he pointedly ignored it as he pushed himself to his feet. He was beyond angry that he’d been humiliated in front of the recruits he was supposed to be training, made to look like a careless fool. On top of that, she’d actually given them useful information- some that he should have given them by now.

As he pushed his way past her, he growled, barely loud enough for even her to hear.

“Don’t you have an elderly Grey Warden to mount?”

Sparrow, Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Varric made it to the Fallow Mires a few days later. They’d managed to track the soldiers to an Avaar camp some distance away, held captive by, as Scout Harding had put it, “a smug prick who just wanted to say he fought the Herald of Andraste“. The Mire was a miserable place, full of abandoned houses and corpses that rose from the depths if you so much as disturbed the water. Still, they managed to find a nice camp a little over halfway to the Avaar. 

That night, Varric sat moping around the fire.

“I still don’t see why you had to bring me to this miserable place. I think it was solely so you could make me bunk with Tiny over there. That way, you had a good excuse to share with Blackwall.”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow. “You think I need an excuse? I’ll mount him here and now, if I want to!” She laughed, placing herself across Blackwall’s lap.

“Egh. Please don’t. I really don’t want to see what that looks like.”

Bull cleared his throat. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind.”

Sparrow burst out laughing as Varric stood up.

“And that’s my cue for bed. You coming, Tiny? I don’t want to be disturbed later.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bull said, standing, then turned to Sparrow and Blackwall. “But you know, if you guys ever want to spice things up a bit, I’m available. Just so you know.”

With that, he disappeared into the tent. Sparrow buried her face in Blackwall’s shoulder as he pulled her against his chest. 

“You’ve put me in so many positions I never would have thought I’d be in,” he whispered to her.

She moaned softly into his beard, nipping at his ear. A shiver ran down his spine, and he felt himself growing hard already.

“You know you love it, Blackwall.”

He sighed as she began kissing her way down his neck, her teeth digging into his shoulder.

“Maker help me, I do.” 

His hands found the curve of her ass, squeezing, as her fingers tangled in his hair. Pulling gently, she tugged his head back to bite the bare column of his throat. Maker, he loved that, the way she dominated him, marking her territory. He might be larger and stronger, he might play at being the one in charge, but it was always her. She owned his body completely.

She slid off of his lap, already shimmying out of her leggings as she ducked into the tent. He hurried after her, catching her just in time to press his harness against her bare ass. Even through his trousers, she could feel the eager rim of his head, waiting to be teased out of its hiding place.

He slipped a hand between them, giving her cheek a hard squeeze as he breathed in her ear, his voice hoarse with lust.

“Sculpted by the Maker himself.”

Pressing back against him, she began rocking her hips, taunting him with what what lay ahead. He leaned away from her, just long enough to give her a hearty smack to her rear, making her throw her head back and moan. Yes, he knew exactly what she liked, and he was more than happy to provide it. Anything for her, to feel her silken flesh against his.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, arching her back in invitation, and he felt suddenly as if his hands couldn’t move fast enough. His belt was cast aside, trousers ripped to his knees as he got behind her. Gripping her hips, he kissed the side of her neck roughly, all teeth and tongue, until she leaned forward, her arms stretched out in front of her and her hips raised. It was pathetic, how desperate she made him, how overeager. Just a small glimpse of that paradise, warm, wet, and pink, and he was pushing himself inside, and every single time, he couldn’t believe how good she felt around him. 

It took mere moments for the tent to be filled with the damp heat of their breath, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the night. Between that and her desperate keening, his groans of pleasure, he knew the others could tell exactly what was going on, but, Maker forgive him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. As always, the only thing that mattered to him was the feel of her body, her satisfied moans as he pushed deep inside of her.

When it was over, he took great care to clean her, kissing her flesh as he wiped it free of his spend, and reaching out his arms for her to lay in. With her curled against his body so snugly, her soft smile aimed at him as she closed her eyes, he could almost believe he was a good man. 

Almost.


	8. Whispering Shadows

“Time magic?” Cullen questioned.

“That’s what he said, yes. And a cult of Magisters from Tevinter, calling themselves the Venatori. They claimed the Mages out from under us intentionally, to weaken us. Apparently, they’re obsessed with me, for some reason, though he couldn’t say exactly why. But you have to admit, the timing is rather suspicious, and I definitely saw some odd things around a rift just outside of Redcliffe.”

Cullen thought for a moment. “You know my feelings on the Templars versus the Mages, and my reasoning for it. But I have to admit, I don’t like the idea of the Mages on the side of this other group, either.”

“We cannot leave the Mages in the hands of a hostile force, right on our doorstep,” Leliana declared. “Especially when we do not know their plans. We must intervene.”

“The problem is that we don’t have the manpower to take the Castle. Redcliffe is one of the most defensible outposts I’ve ever seen, it’s withstood thousands of assaults. At least if we approached the Templars, that much might be accomplished. If you head to Redcliffe, you’ll die, and we lose the chance to ever close the breach. I won’t allow it.”

“I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, Commander-

“Hardly,” he mumbled.

Sparrow ignored him, continuing, “but something has to be done.”

“We cannot leave Redcliffe in the hands of a Tevinter Magister!”

“I agree, Cassandra,” Sparrow nodded. “Is there another way in? There has to be something we can do.”

After a moment, Leliana raised the prospect of using the escape tunnel put in for the family. It wouldn’t fit troops, but her agents could make it in easily enough. Though Cullen objected, at first, she brought up the idea of using Alexius’ desire to see Sparrow as a distraction. With that, her agents would go unnoticed.

“Unfortunately, they’ll never get past Alexius’ magic without my help.”

A leather-clad Mage with an impressive mustache strode through the doors of the war room, smiling arrogantly. Sparrow gestured towards him.

“This is Dorian Pavis, the Mage I spoke with at Redcliffe. He’s well acquainted with Alexius and the time magic he used, and is willing to help us.” She sighed, resting her hands on the table in front of her. “I know some of you see the Templars as a better option, especially now, but I can’t leave them in the hands of someone like Alexius. I’ll take an envoy and distract Alexius, allowing Leliana’s agents to sneak in unnoticed. They will take out any necessary defenses to allow Cullen and his men in. Then, we will take back Redcliffe, and free the Mages.”

“As you say, Herald.”

Cullen sighed as he watched Sparrow leave. There was nothing about this plan that he agreed with, not really. They were risking lives to help Mages that had bristled beneath the yoke of the Templars and rebelled, from a situation they’d gotten themselves into. They were working with another Mage from Tevinter, one who’d admitted to being an ally of Alexius in the past, with no real evidence they could trust him. Lives all over Thedas were being held by a few thin, frayed threads.At least she’d had the sense to ask him to start training the recruits on recognizing and dealing with possession, but it was a cold comfort. There was no guarantee they’d last beyond this attack.

When Blackwall saw Sparrow approaching, he knew instantly something was wrong. Her shoulders were tense, the smile on her face too tight to be genuine. She hadn’t been sleeping well, he knew that. The tension leading up to closing the breach was getting to her, and Cullen wasn’t exactly helping by second guessing her at every turn. Maker knew why he was so hostile to her. He watched her like predator most of the time, face hard with anger as his eyes followed her. If he hadn’t been witness to so much of the venom he’d spewed at her, he’d have sworn he was a man in love, jealous of his competition.

Sparrow came up to him with her hands outstretched, letting him take hold of them and pull her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest for a moment, taking in the salty musk of his scent, before raising her face to his for a kiss. Gently, he stroked the side of her face.

“What’s the matter?”

She sighed heavily. “I hope you’re not tired of Redcliffe and the Hinterlands. We’re headed back in a few days. The Herald has been formally invited by Magister Gereon Alexius, to discuss the use of his legion of Mages for help in closing the breach.”

“It’s a trap.”

“Of course it is. He has no interest in closing the breach, only getting to me. That’s why I’m going. We’re going to lay a trap of our own.”

“With you as bait, I assume?” She nodded, and he put his hands on her hips. “I don’t like it. You, playing the bait for some kind of bloody trap, not knowing what’s going to happen?”

She gave him a gentle smile. “I’ve been in situations like this before. Thief and spy, remember? And as one of the few females aboard, and the only one with all of her teeth, who else was going to be bait? I mean, we tried it once with the cabin boy, but it didn’t really work out well.”

Blackwall laughed. “Well at least I’ll be along to protect you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you going in alone.”

“Well, I’d hardly call a group of Leliana’s agents and half or more of our troops ‘alone’, and I’m capable of taking care of myself, you know.”

“So you keep reminding me. It’s a force of habit, I suppose, assuming ladies are helpless.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t. Do you consider Cassandra helpless?”

“Maker, no. She could gut me with a look, and Leliana, too.”

“But not me?” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he sighed, putting his forehead to hers.

“There are a thousand ways you could destroy me, and never lay a finger on me. You carry my heart and soul in the palm of your hand.”

She smiled at him, giving him a quiet chuckle as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Such pretty words, Blackwall.”

“There are better uses for my tongue, you know.”

“I do, indeed.”

She leaned to kiss him, letting him slip his tongue past her lips as he held her waist tightly. He was always good for helping her forget whatever was bothering her, distracting her with sweet words and the warmth of his touch. There had definitely been times lately when, if he hadn’t been beside her, she might have run away from this, from the responsibilities and expectations placed on her. Stillness like this wasn’t built into her soul, she preferred movement and change, new sights and never really being known.

Still, there were advantages to staying still and making herself vulnerable. She and Sera had become good friends, getting closer all the time. She disagreed with her relationship with Blackwall, but she accepted it. Acceptance. That was the thing she’d been missing her whole life, now that she thought about it. Her family had never accepted her magic, or her desire for freedom. She’d never had close friends- and even among the mercenaries she worked with, she’d been something of an outcast.

Here, everyone was an outcast, more or less. Blackwall, the Grey Warden who hadn’t seen another in years. Sera, the not-elf elf. Bull was a not really secret spy, Solas preferred the Fade to humanity, and Varric, well, he was Varric. Cassandra and Leliana had raised the ire of the Chantry in order to do what they felt was right, whatever the consequences were.

And Cullen. Not a Templar in name, but still one in his heart, yet he’d left the order by choice, if she’d understood it right. He was a puzzle to her, and she was determined to figure him out. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in her romantically, he’d proved that- yet he still watched her, giving her hard looks when he saw her with Blackwall, as if he resented the man’s presence. He distrusted Mages for some unknown reason, beyond the usual for a Templar, but wouldn’t talk about why.

She glanced over her shoulder towards him as a Blackwall lead her into his cabin, and, sure enough, he was staring again, that strange look on his face. It seemed almost sad, or wistful. Perhaps he was remembering someone from his past, she thought, or maybe wishing for something similar with another person. Whatever it was, he couldn’t seem to decide if he was sad or angry.

Cullen sighed as he watched Sparrow disappear into the cabin with Blackwall. For all his trying, he couldn’t keep pretending that he hated her, or that what had happened between them hadn’t been his fault. By the breath of Andraste, he just couldn’t keep his head together around her, he couldn’t make his mouth say the things he wanted to say. After the night he’d left her alone, when they’d nearly . . . he’d thought he’d done the worst possible thing by running away. Then, the fool that he was, he’d all but directly said that she should die rather than use the Mages. He hadn’t meant that at all, he’d just been so angry, and hurt, and confused. Despite leaving them, he wanted to remain loyal to the Templars. They’d been his entire life, until now. Using the Mages instead seemed like an utter betrayal. Well,it didn’t matter now. The Herald had decided their course, and it was up to him to see it through.

In Redcliffe, things went surprisingly well, as far as most of the Inquisition was concerned. Only Sparrow and Dorian knew what had really happened, aside from a vague mention of a potential future where someone called “The Elder One” killed the empress of Orlais and took control. They’d given the relevant information to those who needed to know, and spoken of it no more. Alexius was imprisoned, his fate to be decided after the breach was sealed, and they were arranging for shelter for the mages at that very moment. Some had been . . . less than approving of her desire to treat the Mages as allies, but she knew they would soon see the sense in it. People weren’t meant for cages, literal or figurative.

She sought Cullen out as soon as they returned to Haven, though she suspected he’d been intentionally avoiding her. Of all those who disagreed, he’d been the most vocal, on the brink of threatening her. Yet he’d held his tongue, making a clear effort to temper his anger, and she appreciated the gesture. Now it was time to return his courtesy.

“Commander? Might I speak with you?”

He huffed in annoyance before turning towards her, arms crossed in front of him. She took a deep breath, then met his gaze.

“I appreciate you doing your best to indulge me in my use of the mages, even though you don’t agree with it.” He nodded curtly, and she continued. “As a former Templar, you know best the potential risks of this many mages this close to a break in the fade. I would . . ,” she swallowed before continuing. “I would very much appreciate it if you would take the lead in setting up protections. I’m sure you’ve taught the recruits well.”

“With your help,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Be that as it may, I’d like you to be in charge of this. I’m trusting you, Commander.”

Something in her eyes signaled to him that this was a test, one that he’d best make sure he passed. Whatever it was that had put the idea in her head, he was glad of it.

“I appreciate the opportunity, Lady Sparrow. I will do my best.”

His voice was softer than she’d heard in weeks, almost kind, and she was glad she’d asked him. With a gentle smile, she left, and Cullen was surprised to see her head to her own cabin, instead of Blackwall’s. Since they’d returned from the Fallow Mire, she had been spending most of her free time, and all of her nights, with him. Cullen had even taken to making sure his late night or early morning walks stayed well away, fearing he’d hear or see more that he wished he hadn’t. Now she was heading to sleep alone, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

Sparrow had told him she needed some space after Redcliffe, to clear her head. She refused to tell him what, exactly, had happened during the brief seconds she’d been gone, but Blackwall could see it had affected her deeply. It hurt that she wouldn’t confide in him, but he could hardly complain about it. She was allowed her secrets, her privacy as she wished. Still, it would have been nice to comfort her, if she was hurting. He cared for her more than he wanted to admit, though it did neither of them any good. What they had couldn’t possibly last, they were too different, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did.

As the door shut behind her, Sparrow leaned against it, breathing in deeply. It wasn’t that she’d wanted to be alone, exactly. It was just that she didn’t want to have to explain it when she woke up gasping for breath, a scream dying on her lips. On the way back from Redcliffe, she’d woken Blackwall up twice that way, and he couldn’t seem to understand that his arms around her weren’t the comfort he thought. They felt stifling, instead, like he was suffocating her. What she needed was a reassuring presence, someone to sit with her in the dark, maybe hold her hand. To tell her they understood, they were there for her. But who could possibly understand the nightmares she’d seen, or the way they affected her? It was well and good to say it was “just a dream”, but it had, for a few hours, been reality, too. She’d seen her friends die so that she could return to this time and fix what had gone wrong. But here they were, still living. It was as if her mind just couldn’t grasp it.

It was going to take some time before they were ready to take on the breach. Besides simply finding food and shelter for the Mages, they needed to weed through them, to find the best, the ones with the most control. It was also likely they’d need a supply of lyrium larger than they had on hand for the ex Templar recruits, and finding that might prove difficult, even with her connections. Cullen needed to sort through the recruits to find the ones best suited for guarding against possession, and she’d want to take a look at them, to be sure they had the right temperament.

All in all, facing the breach was a project for the future, and Sparrow wasn’t sure if she was glad of that or not.


	9. A Stitch in Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut*  
> *graphic depictions of violence*

Damn. It was the third night in a row Sparrow had woke before sunrise, the terror of her nightmares still bitter in her throat. She’d thought they would leave by now, or at least subside a little, but they seemed to be getting worse, instead.

“Maker’s mercy, I can’t keep going like this,” she muttered to herself as she threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll never have the energy to face the breach.”

Still, she knew it would do no good for her to try to go back to sleep, so she dressed for the day instead, tossing on a long, dark skirt and heavy grey sweater. Blackwall wanted to see her this afternoon, feeling slighted at her continued nights alone and refusal to explain it to him, so she’d need to dress for that later. She knew he had a point, but she couldn’t help but resent it, just a bit. She’d been the one to go through everything, but she had to coddle him through his hurt feelings. Then again, it’s not like he knew what she’d seen. She was still refusing to tell him, which likely hurt him even more.

The sky was still a dark, inky blue as she stepped outside, drawing her sweater tighter around her shoulders, but it was blissfully silent. The only sound was the crunch of her feet in the snow, and the gentle rustling of the wind in the trees. As she approached the edge of the forest, she saw a familiar figure in the distance. Moments later, she was speaking to him from behind.

“Hello, Commander.”

He turned with a startled look.

“Maker’s breath! I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here.”

“I’m sorry. I can go if you like? Leave you in peace?”

“No, it’s quite alright.”

They stood together in silence for a few moments, watching the stars. All the while, Cullen’s gaze kept returning to her. There was a haunted look to her face, one he knew well. He often saw it in the mirror. 

“Lady . . . Sparrow? Is something the matter?”

She shrugged casually, but seconds later he saw the tears welling in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, apologizing and offering to leave, but he stopped her with a hand on her elbow. His brows furrowed deeply as he looked at her.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath, trying to still the tears falling from her eyes.

“I . . . I’ve been having nightmares. About what happened in Redcliffe.”

“But there was nothing-“

“There was nothing anyone else saw. Only Dorian and I witnessed the potential future, what can happen if we don’t succeed.”

“I imagine it wasn’t pretty,” he whispered.

She scoffed. “Far from pretty. I haven’t told anyone . . . I don’t want them to worry, or to really understand what’s at stake. It’s my burden. And they couldn’t understand what it’s like, these nightmares. They won’t leave me! The same sights over and over, my friends, the people I care about dying . . . they would never be able to know how it felt, to see that horror.”

He looked at her for a few long moments before he replied softly.

“I do.”

She looked at him in astonishment, and he sighed.

“I have nightmares, too. I told you I was at the Circle, during the rebellion? I know what it’s like. So if you want to talk about it . . . .”

He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. To know that there was another person, someone who’d had a similar experience, was comforting to him. It made him feel less pathetic, less alone.

“I saw. . . red lyrium. Everywhere. The entire castle was rife with it. There was no corner left untouched. And all of you- almost all of you- were imprisoned, tainted with it, dying. Leliana had been tortured into a shell of herself. Though only a year had passed, her body looked as if it had been a century. Blackwall thought he was dead already, and he and Sera both thought that I was. Still, they fought beside me.”

She choked on a sob, staring ahead as he listened.

“They were so brave, Cullen. Even when the Elder One came, and tore down the door . . . I watched them give their lives for me. Filled with arrows, limbs hacked off right in front of me . . . Leliana had her throat slit, and fought even as the life drained from her body. And I see that, every night, again and again. I watch my friends, the people I care about, wiped from existence. And I know that it’s possible, that it’s still possible! I may fail in all of this, and it still comes to pass!”

“Andraste preserve me . . . .”

She looked at him then, her eyes swollen and red, overflowing with tears.

“And I saw you.” 

Her sobs grew again, great shaking sobs that tore at his heart. When she threw herself into his arms, he didn’t dare resist, even as her hands twisted tightly in his tunic.

“You were . . . you had tried to fight, to rail against them as soon as we’d disappeared. They wanted to make an example of you, to show what happened to those who dared speak against the Elder One. And . . . they tainted you with lyrium. Not just the usual contact or draught that everyone else had been through. I don’t know how they did it, but they had your entire body encased, everything but your eyes. It grew from within you, taking your body. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak- and they wouldn’t let you die! I saw your eyes, and they begged me for help, and I could do nothing! You didn’t deserve that, because you were brave, and selfless, and you wanted nothing more than to protect us all- and they took all of that away from you, and made you watch, unable to do a damn thing as they ruined everything you loved.”

She pressed her face into his chest, and he found his arms wrapping around her tighter, holding her close as she cried. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek on her head, and found, to his surprise, that something about it felt indescribably right, like she was meant to be there. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and it felt like home.

How it happened, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d done it, or maybe it had been her, but the next thing he knew her mouth was against his, the taste of salt on his tongue as her teeth dug into his bottom lip. With one hand, he cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss, as she slid her hands up his back. She pulled him desperately towards her, as if he couldn’t possibly be close enough. All that existed for him was her, her mouth, her hands, her body. She filled a need in him that he hadn’t even known was there.

She stumbled backwards, holding onto him, until he began slowly lowering her to the ground beneath him. His mouth stayed firmly on hers, even as he kneeled between her legs, as if parting would cause them both to cease existing. He was the rock she needed, she his steady hand, and they wouldn’t give each other up, not for anything now.

Her hands went to the front of his trousers as he pulled the length of her skirt up her legs, until he could get ahold of her smalls. Only, as he searched for their edge, he found nothing but the warmth of her bare skin. Without words, without hesitation, his fingers slipped between her folds, testing her readiness. She was positively slick around his fingers, groaning at his every move. Maker, there was so much he wanted, so many things he wanted to explore. To taste her, to feel the way she responded to his touch- things this situation wouldn’t allow. So instead, he slipped inside her warmth, pressing his forehead to hers. Maker, she was beautiful, the way her eyes closed, the way her mouth formed a soft, gasping circle as he moved inside of her. He couldn’t bring himself to look away. Her eyes returned his gaze, and he swore there was admiration there, a deep affection that mirrored his own. Something inside of her called to him, and he had no choice but to answer.

Whatever it was that had begun this was out of her hands, the same force that held the stars in the sky and pulled the waves of the sea. Being with Cullen felt as natural as breathing, as if his body were merely a continuation of her own, a lost appendage, finally returned. She could no more resist it than force the sun to rise in the darkness, and she had no reason to wish to. She felt she had known his soul through a thousand lifetimes, and a thousand more wouldn’t be enough.

When he wasn’t staring at her in astonished awe, his mouth was locked on hers, or nipping at the tender flesh of her neck, just to hear her glorious cries of pleasure. Blessed Andraste, they were beautiful- soft moans whispered in his ear, timed to the rhythm of his thrusts. He could imagine no greater pleasure than he’d found in her arms, and she felt no man could fit inside her as perfectly as he did, nor fill her so completely. It was as if his body had been made for hers, the perfect line of his cock rubbing against the soft, sweet spot inside of her. The familiar tension began building, heat spreading through her body as she gripped him tighter, and soon she was tumbling over the edge into ecstasy. He moved faster, chasing his own release as she pulsed around him. Suddenly, he was there, spilling deep inside of her, and she was holding him against her, kissing him over and over.

They lay in peace, tangled together in the snow as the sun crept over the horizon, until they knew they had no time left to linger. Neither spoke as he helped her right her clothing, and when they moved to leave, no goodbye was said. Instead, Cullen watched her take a few steps forward, then leapt to grab her hand. He pulled her back against him, holding the back of her head and drawing her into a long, passionate kiss. When the kiss ended, she smiled softly, her fingers tracing over his lips, and pulled him to her for more gentle pecks, ending with a tender pull of his bottom lip. Then she was gone, disappearing in the trees as he walked to prepare for his day.

Oh Andraste, what had been done?

It kept crossing her mind all day, memories of Cullen’s touch, his kiss, the sounds he’d made. It was wrong. It should have been wrong. It should have FELT wrong, to be with him, Blackwall unknowing, and likely disapproving if he were to know, but she couldn’t manage to find any guilt within her. Instead, she felt . . . calm. Relaxed for the first time in ages, and without the burning need inside of her, the craving for sexual contact she’d had since she could remember. 

When she met Blackwall later that afternoon, she saw for the first time how worried he’d been about her, since Redcliffe. He could scarcely contain himself as she approached, fidgeting in place so he didn’t run immediately to her. Instead, he did his best to stay calm, inviting her for a pleasant walk. When they’d reached a private area, he stopped, turning to face her.

“Have I done something to offend you, my lady?”

Sparrow furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry?”

“If I’ve hurt you in any way, or demanded something you didn’t want to give, I apologize. But I’d like to know what it is, what’s caused this distance between us.”

“Blackwall . . ,” she wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing at all. You’ve always been the perfect gentleman, except for the times I’ve asked you to be otherwise.”

He smiled quietly, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Then what is it? Why is there this gulf between us, where have you gone?”

Touching her head to his chest, she sighed. “My mind is back in Redcliffe, in the future I saw. There was so much darkness, so little hope, and I know it’s what happens if I fail.”

“A heavy weight to carry,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “But you won’t fail. You’re stronger than that. More capable.”

With a smile, she placed her hands over his. “Such confidence in a lowlife mercenary.”

“That’s not who you are now. You’re the Herald. Something bigger than yourself, a sign of hope.”

“I can only be myself, nothing bigger than that.”

He chuckled, kissing her temple.

“Who you are is quite enough, my lady.”

Cullen watched Sparrow return with Blackwall just as the sun was beginning to set, her smile wide and relaxed. Though she didn’t stay with him, she accepted his goodnight kiss, squeezing his hand as she left. There was no sign of a rift between them, as far as he could see. In fact, they both looked quite happy.

So why had this morning happened? Why had she let him pull her back, and kissed him with such tenderness before she left, if she intended to stay with Blackwall? That’s not to say he’d expected her to suddenly want a relationship with him. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted that- he wasn’t sure of anything, except that he’d never felt anything like it before. Being with her had calmed the storm inside of him, and for the first time since before the Circle, he could think clearly. For the short time he’d spent in her arms, nothing else had mattered.

As he lay in bed that night, his mind kept replaying every moment they’d been together. The taste of her kiss, the wetness of her tears against his face. Her fingers against his lips. The heat of her body beneath him, and the way she’d held him so tightly, like she never wanted to let him go. Andraste preserve him, he’d felt the same way. If he could have laid tangled with her forever in that snow bank, he would have, breach be damned. 

They barely saw each other the next few days, both busy with preparations to close the breach. The few times there were meetings in the war room, he stole glances as often as he could, and she always returned his gaze with a soft look or a smile. But still, she walked with Blackwall, and made no move to search him out or speak with him. He could have approached her, of course, but what could he say? Ask her why she’d fucked him in the snow and then continued the relationship she was already in? It was ridiculous. 

When she finally found the time to help him training the recruits, she was kind and polite to him, with no animosity. They worked seamlessly alongside one another, even laughing a bit and making jokes. It wasn’t until Blackwall came to steal her for lunch that he realized that, the entire time he’d been around her, that same quiet had returned to his mind. All he’d thought of was the task at hand, moving through everything smoothly, like he had before everything had happened at the Circle. There was no chaos, no second guessing himself. 

He glanced over to where the couple sat, and a part of him wished terribly that he were in Blackwall’s place. Sparrow, sitting happily across his lap, her arm thrown around his shoulders as she ate. Her fingers running gently through his hair as he kissed her, holding her close. Would she laugh for him the same way, brilliant eyes sparkling? Could he make her as happy?

He shook his head, turning his focus back to training plans. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He wasn’t in any place for that sort of thing. The best thing for him to do was forget anything had happened between them and let her be, or consider it a pleasant memory, a temporary diversion. It would hardly be fair for her to be tied to him, as broken as he was. Whatever he felt, whatever it meant, he needed to let it go.

But, Maker, how he wanted it.


	10. The Fire Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *minor smut*

The time had come, Maker preserve them all.

The breach glowed above them, it’s ill green light casting over the group as if in threat. Nervous tension gathered in the air around them, eyes shifting from one to another, looking for some small shred of hope, a promise that everything would be alright. None questioned their choice to be there, knowing that refusing to try would yield nothing good. And so they stood, side by side, waiting for the Herald.

Sparrow approached slowly, Blackwall at her side. He grasped her wrists, squeezing them as he placed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You have this, my lady.”

She nodded, letting him step back into the shadows as Cassandra came to one side of her, Cullen to the other. Solas stood back, directing the Mages. Glancing upward to the breach, Sparrow closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of magic around her, the pull of the breach and from her hand, the crackling of potential lying beneath the Mages’ will. Then she looked to Cassandra, who squeezed her arm, nodding, and left to stand by Solas.

Left alone with Cullen, she met his eyes. 

“Are your troops ready?”

“We are standing by. They’ve been trained well, in no small part thanks to you.” He lowered his voice, leaning in close. “Take care, Sparrow.”

Suddenly he felt the warmth of her palm gently stroking against his.

“You too, Cullen. And, if something should go wrong, don’t hesitate. Regardless of who it is.”

She gave him a significant look, and he nodded, swallowing dryly. Though he knew exactly what she meant, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

She stood beneath the breach, her staff held out beside her, dark cape billowing out behind. With a deep breath, she raised her marked hand.

“Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!”

Solas’ voice rang out across the stones, as Sparrow sent the power within her reaching towards the breach. She could feel the will of the others behind her, like a bolstering wall. They held her in place as the breach pulled at her, trying to claim her magic for itself. Then, slowly, the flow began to change. Instead of pulling from within her, she felt the magic being drawn to her, past her, and into the mages as well. She knew without a doubt that without them, even if she had succeeded in reversing the flow, she would have died. No human could hold that much magic inside of them. Still, they pulled, magic flowing into them, out of the breach, like the unwinding of a spool. She began to sweat with the effort as it flowed through her, trying to keep it from moving more quickly than they could handle. A part of her began to wonder if it might kill her, after all. 

And then, suddenly, it was closed, a great gust of wind knocking them all over, like the slamming of a door. Sparrow fell to her knees, chest heaving, only held upright at all by her staff. Cullen bolted to her side.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, gasping. “Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just give me a moment.”

He rubbed her back soothingly with one hand, his other tracing the side of her face. As he opened his mouth to speak, Cassandra came running up, helping Sparrow to her feet.

“You did it,” Cassandra smiled.

Cullen watched as Sparrow was lead away, and into Blackwall’s waiting arms. For a moment, he thought he saw her looking back at him, sadness in her eyes. Then she was gone.

Back at Haven, everyone was already celebrating, having seen the way the breach disappeared. After sheltering their horses, Blackwall, Sparrow, and Cassandra all began the walk to the Chantry, with Sparrow and Cassandra intending to meet with Josephine and Leliana to discuss their next move. Solas and Cullen were slightly behind them, Cullen also intending to be there. They were walking the last flight of steps, accepting various congratulations, as Josephine came running out to them.

“Lady Nightshade, if I might have a private word?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled Sparrow behind a building and a few stacks of hay.

“My deepest apologies, Herald, but I’ve just received word from some of Leliana’s agents. It seems that-“

She was interrupted by a great commotion at the gates of Haven. Fearing an attack, she took off, meeting Cullen, Blackwall, and Dorian, who’d all had the same thought, just before the entry. Blackwall and Cullen had the same look of abject horror on their faces, while Dorian’s held mild amusement.

“Oh dear me,” Dorian clicked his tongue. “It seems our Herald isn’t quite who she’s lead us to believe.”

A familiar voice boomed over the waiting crowd, making Sparrow wince. Andraste’s holy asscheeks, couldn’t they have waited just a bit longer?

“Well, look at this! Our sister, the Herald of Andraste!”

“Indeed. One would think she might have invited at LEAST her beloved siblings to see her.”

Sparrow sighed. “Hello Markus, Emmelin. How have you been?”

The slender, blonde woman walked up to her, though it was difficult to see how she could possibly move in the grey dress she wore- at least without it ripping. Though she made as if to hug her, the only physical contact she actually made was to brush her cheek lightly against Sparrows.

“Better for seeing you. It seems we’ve arrived just in time for the celebrations?”

“I’d intended to throw a more official party later, inviting the entire family.”

“Oh, you know Mother and Father,” said the man, who was nearly as tall as Iron Bull, though most of his width was in his midsection, “they won’t leave the house without a truly compelling reason- usually involving gold, or, in father’s case, alcohol!”

He chuckled heartily, only stopping as Dorian walked over to him.

“Hello Markus.”

“Cousin Dorian! Sparrow, you never said cousin Dorian was here!”

She raised an eyebrow at Dorian.

“Yes, my dear, I’m sorry to say we’re related. Though I would have told you right away, had I known you were a Trevelyan.”

All eyes landed on Sparrow, who felt her face burning. This was EXACTLY the scenario she’d hoped to avoid. It became worse instantly, as Emmelin looked over her clothing.

“Why, darling, are you wearing these old rags? Wool, linen? As if you can’t afford better . . . ?”

Here we go, exactly as she’d expected.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I didn’t have the luxury of growing up with the Trevelyan gold, as you did. I had to run, to avoid being stripped of titles and locked away for the rest of my life.”

Though her tone remained light, Emmelin’s eyes spoke a warning.

“Oh, nonsense. You KNOW mother and father were only joking. They would never have sent you away! Besides, I’m sure the Inquisition has plenty of coin to outfit their Herald as the nobility she is.”

“Yes, darling,” rang Vivienne’s voice behind her. “If you are a Trevelyan, you must dress as one. What would the people think?”

Sparrow muttered under her breath. “The people have liked me just fine as I am.”

To her horror, Vivienne and Emmelin whisked her away, a box of Em’s clothes in tow.

While she was gone, Dorian and Markus filled anyone who would listen on the history of the Trevelyans, and how they were related to the Pavus family. When Markus found out Cassandra was a Pentaghast, he had to spend quite a bit of time explaining to her how they were related, as well. Cullen and Blackwall listened to all of it, trying to reconcile what they knew of Sparrow with it.

When Sparrow emerged later, it was Cullen who saw her first. He’d given up on celebrating, his mind reeling from the new information, and had hidden himself away beside her cabin, hoping to talk to her. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say, but all thoughts left him the instant his eyes fell on her.

She was dressed in a body-hugging hooded gown of black silk, with a deep v in the front and a slit that reached her upper thigh in the center, meaning than nearly all that was holding it together was the leather belt at her waist. When she turned, he saw that the back was cut out as well, dipping to just below her hips. She looked every bit the nobility she was, but he could also see the mischief of the thief, the darkness of the spy.

Inside of him, conflict raged. He was furious that she hadn’t been honest about who she was, but he also understood the desire to hide it, to live a different life than the one planned for her. He felt as if, somehow, her nobility made her impossible for him to touch, too far out of his reach to even consider. Yet he wanted her more than ever. It seemed to him that her bare skin called out to him, begging to be kissed, his calloused hands running over its impossible smoothness. He wanted his teeth against her tender flesh, nipping at the curves of her hips, the hollow of her throat. He thought of that morning in the snow, and wanted it all again, but this time inside, her body bare beneath his, and all the time he needed to explore the ways he could please her. Maker, how he wanted to hear her scream.

As he watched her approach Blackwall, he saw the way the Grey Warden suddenly seemed stiff, more formal than he had been. Perhaps it was because Sparrow’s demeanor had changed as well, taking on the more formal tones of her siblings, of Vivienne and Dorian. But there was a distance to it, as well. He seemed almost afraid. Why would he suddenly fear the woman that, just hours before, he’d held against his body, comforting?

Blackwall knew he couldn’t avoid her family forever. Eventually, he’d have to see them, at their insistence, if not hers. Word would reach them that their sister had been connected to a lowly Grey Warden, much too old for her, and then he’d be gone. They’d never allow it. He could offer her no palace, could father no heirs to the Trevelyan name. He would likely only live long enough for her to be too old for any of that in her second marriage, were they to marry.

It had always been foolish, to let himself fall in love with her. He’d known it from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. He’d also known that he’d do it anyway. What was there not to love about her? She was strong, capable, intelligent. A beautiful face, a kind heart . . . and a dirty mind. Even in his younger days, when he’d charm women into bed without a second thought, he’d never have believed some of the things she had him up to. She could wind him up with only a look, and have him spilling in seconds. He’d been lucky to have her, but, as he’d expected, his luck had run out.

Sparrow was surprised that Blackwall had excused himself to his quarters so early. The way he’d talked about her, about them and their future, she’d expected that he’d want to meet her family right away. It wasn’t something she looked forward to, but she’d expected it. Instead, he’d avoided them at all costs, and now, he was removing himself from a party before it even managed to get going. Did he hate nobles that much, that suddenly finding out she was nobility made him hate her as well?

She was leaned against the side of her cabin, frowning, when Cullen crept up beside her.

“Hello, Lady Trevelyan.”

Sparrow groaned. “I swear to the Maker above, Cullen, if you call me ‘Lady Trevelyan’ EVER again, I’ll pull your balls through your nostrils. I’m no fucking Trevelyan.”

“I understand,” he chuckled, as she shoved her shoulder against his with a smirk. “What happened to Blackwall?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t. He’s been half avoiding me since my family showed up. Now he’s decided that his bed is better company than I am.” She looked at Cullen. “I didn’t lie when I said I left because they were going to stuff me in a circle. I haven’t seen them since I was a child! But now, suddenly, I’m a Trevelyan again, and I’m expected to act a certain way, dress a certain way- and people seem to think I’m a different person altogether. I am who I am, who I’ve always been. Who my parents are doesn’t change that, does it?”

“Of course not.”

She smiled at him softly, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Understanding.”

They stood in silence for some time, watching the others celebrating. Cullen couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, the way the dress fit her so perfectly, or her eyes glimmered in the light. Soon, he noticed she was looking at him, too. After a brief pause, Cullen cleared his throat, speaking softly.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She looked down at her dress, huffing.

“It’s one of Emmelin’s dresses. I’m surprised it fits me, honestly. She’s all bones, and I’m . . . well, not.”

“It fits you perfectly.”

His eyes roamed her shape appreciatively, taking in the gap of skin between her breasts, the shape of her thighs beneath the slit. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. He’d laid between those thighs, only a few mornings past, and it seemed all at once to be an eternity and a moment ago.

“Thank you.”

Her smile was full of secrets, playful mischief in her eyes. 

“I wonder, though, Commander, could you help me adjust this belt? Vivienne and my sister seem to believe I’m a bit smaller than I am, and I feel as if I can hardly breathe.”

“I know the feeling,” he muttered, a bit too loud, and she laughed.

“Come, just around the side here.”

She pulled him to an area of deep shadow behind her quarters, easily overlooked even if someone were trying to find them. Turning her back to him, she leaned forward slightly, arching her back.

“Please loosen my belt, Commander.”

There was a husky rasp to her voice that sent chills across his skin, and blood rushing between his legs. He pulled off his gloves, then, slowly, he lifted the hood out of the way, trailing his fingers along the bare skin of her back. She gasped sharply as he traced her spine, his mouth finding the nape of her neck just as he began loosening her buckle. Hot kisses fell against her skin, over and over, as his hands snaked around her waist. She gasped at the cold of his armor, then moaned softly as he bit the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

“You are . . ,” he began whispering in her ear, but before he could finish, she’d turned in his arms, and her mouth was clamped on his.

She kissed him breathless, hands roaming his chest, wrapping around his waist, twisting in his hair. Maker, she was rapacious, ready to devour him with her lust. He pressed her back harshly against the wall, hand sliding beneath the slit in her dress to cup her ass. His cock throbbed in his trousers as his hand brushed across warm, soft skin.

“No smalls?” He breathed against her throat, and she shook her head.

“I’ve never liked them.”

“Maker above . . . .”

Her leg wrapped around his waist as his mouth found hers again, drawing him closer. Andraste, she wanted him, his hands, his mouth, his cock- everything. As his hand slid around to tease at her opening, she felt the delicious vibrations of his moan in her mouth.

“So wet . . . are you always this eager?”

“Is that a problem for you?”

He chuckled softly against her lips.

“Never.”

Her hand moved down his chest, reaching between his legs to palm the length of his cock. As he let out a harsh, stuttering breath, she began to drag him towards her door.

“I think we need a little more privacy, don’t you?”

He nodded, letting her pull him along, until need got the better of him. Taking the back of her head in his hand, he crashed his mouth against hers. Oh, Andraste, how he wanted her.

Suddenly the loud clanging of bells rang out, echoing through the courtyard. Cullen pulled away from her roughly, cursing, and ran. 

Whatever this was, it couldn’t possibly be good.


	11. On the Precipice

Oh, damn Emmelin, and damn her dresses. Sparrow could hardly run in the wretched thing, only barely making it to where her advisors were grouped before Cullen started briefing them. A massive force had gathered and was heading their way, fast, no banner flying. Half of the troops or more were drunk out of their minds, and most of the mages were either exhausted or terrified.

“We joined the Inquisition to get away from the fighting, not be drawn into more!”

Sparrow shot the apostate a dirty look.

“Shut it, and help us defend, or find yourself another hiding place,” she growled.

There was no time for changing, no time to check on her useless siblings. No doubt they were cowering somewhere, regretting their decision to barge in. Still, they were her family. As she grabbed her staff, she called to Josepine.

“Find Markus and Emmelin, keep them safe!”

Josephine nodded as she grouped everyone she could into the Chantry. Varric met Sparrow on the hill, Iron Bull at the gates, where he was in conversation with Cullen about what could be done. Then, suddenly there was a pounding at the doors, and a voice crying to be let in. When they opened the gate, cautiously, a slip of a boy stood behind it, with shaggy blonde hair sticking out from underneath a giant rimmed hat. He told them of the coming attack, Templars, aligned with an ‘Elder One’- the same term Alexius had used, and the people in the future Sparrow and Dorian had witnessed.

“There.”

The boy pointed up to the top of a cliff, where two men stood side by side. At least, Sparrow supposed you would call them men. The resemblance was slight, more akin to ‘monster’, in her mind.

“He’s very angry that you took his Mages.”

Cullen looked carefully at the figures.

“I know that man . . . but this Elder One . . . I have no idea.”

“It hardly matters,” Sparrow said. “He intends to hurt us, and we can’t let that stand.”

Cullen nodded. “Hit the force with everything we have. And . . . .”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow.

“Take care of yourself, Herald.”

They traded smirks, then went to their respective positions. 

The trebuchets were nearly overrun when she reached them, glowing red Templars attacking. Bull was furious in a way Sparrow had never seen before, raging at the Templars and tossing them aside like playthings. Her focus was primarily on protecting the others, until she got an opening and headed directly to arm the trebuchet. There were a few close calls, but, finally, she made it to the second as well, and half of the mountainside tumbled down onto the approaching forces. A cheer went up, but their joy was short lived as an angry screeching tore down from the sky. Overhead, a great shadow approached on the rasp of leather wings. One more screech, and the sky exploded in flame.

Dragon.

“To the gates! Everyone in!”

Sparrow screamed for her life, rushing to help anyone struggling to make it. Bodies littered the ground beneath her feet, mostly red Templars, but a few Inquisition soldiers as well. As she ran, she said a silent prayer for their souls, hoping they’d found more peace in death than they had in life. And still, the dragon swooped overhead, circling and readying itself for the next attack.

She’d barely slipped through the gates before Cullen was slamming them closed behind her, yelling for everyone to head to the Chantry. Sparrow was about to talk to Cullen, when Blackwall came running up, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Maker forgive me, I didn’t know where you were, or what was happening. All I could think was that I might never see you again.”

He cupped her face in his hands, and she glanced over his shoulder to where Cullen stood, watching. They shared a moment of eye contact before Sparrow was brushing Blackwall’s hands away.

“There’s time for sorry later, if we’re lucky. To the Chantry.”

The group followed Cullen in, stopping to help anyone who hadn’t made it yet. As they approached, she was surprised to see Chancellor Roderick, the sour fellow she’d encountered several times before, standing at the doorway. Just as the doors were closed, he collapsed over the blonde boy who’d come to warn them. He shook his head sadly.

“He’s going to die.”

Sparrow turned to Cullen. “Tell me something, anything useful.”

“Our position isn’t good. The dragon stole back any time you might have won us.”

“It’s an archdemon,” the boy corrected. “I saw one, in the fade. It looked like that.”

“Whatever it is, it’s cut a clear path for that army, and they’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

“He only wants the Herald. No one else matters, but he’ll kill them anyway.”

Sparrow looked around at her friends, then squared her shoulders.

“Cullen, what do we do?”

He looked at her, anger and sadness playing across his face.

“There’s no way to survive this. Our only option is to turn the trebuchets, cause an avalanche. We’d bury Haven, but at least we’ll die on our terms.”

Sparrow’s jaw clenched tightly. 

“I don’t accept that. I won’t. There has to be something to do, some way to survive. At least some of us.”

There was a quiet cough from the corner as Chancellor Roderick sat up. He told them of a hidden path, long unused, that could take them out and away, keeping them safe.

“I didn’t mean to find it, it was only a whim. But now . . . Andraste must have shown me, so I could tell you. She must have . . . .” He paused, time growing thin, then reached for Sparrow’s hand. “If she showed me for this purpose, then I have to believe . . . there is more. That you are more. Forgive me my reluctance to see you as the Herald.”

Sparrow squeezed his hand, turning to Cullen.

“Take them. I’ll draw their attention. If this ‘Elder One’ wants me, then he’ll have me.”

“But your escape . . . .”

Realization dawned on him, a deep sadness creeping over his face for a moment before he steeled himself, nodding.

“I’ll signal when we’re above the tree line.” He turned, then paused and faced her again. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

She gave him a crooked smile. “I think we’re far beyond foolishness. Take care of everyone, will you?”

He nodded, then left, and Sparrow turned to her companions. She looked at them, one by one- Bull. Varric. Blackwall.

“I don’t ask you to come with me, to volunteer for what is likely your death. If I had my way, you’d all head to safety with the others. But I know you all, and, if you want to come, I’ll be glad of the company.”

Varric spoke first.

“Ah, shit. Well, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to keep an asshole’s attention. Count me in.”

“Not turning my back on you now, boss.”

Blackwall cupped her face tenderly. “If you’re going to walk into death, I intend to be at your side.”

She hugged him close, and the group walked towards the door.

“Well,” said Bull, “Let’s go kick this guy’s ass!”

They fought their way through the red Templars, beyond the gates, and toward the creature who called himself “The Elder One”. The dragon flew circles overhead, waiting for some unknown signal, as he approached. Then, suddenly, it dove hard, landing behind Sparrow, cutting her off from her friends and blocking her way. 

She faced the creature in front of her with a cold gaze, her back straight. The dragon screamed behind her, stomping to drive her forward, until she was feet away from the twisted, inhuman creature in front of her. It laughed coldly, trying to intimidate her. Giving speeches about the insignificance of man and his utter superiority, finally ending with a growl.

“Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus!”

Her smile would have frozen the heart of the most courageous.

“You’ll get nothing out of me. I will not yield, I will not fail, and I will not fear.”

“Resist. It matters not. I am here for the anchor, and the process of removing it begins now.”

He flung out his hand, making the mark glow brightly and sending sharp, searing pain through her arm. Before she could move, he’d grabbed her wrist and lifted her in the air, speaking of old gods and plans to raise Tevinter. The only thing Sparrow could think was that, if he had ever been a person at all, those days were long behind him. It looked like a monster had grown inside of him, rippling beneath the skin, and was bursting through.

He tossed her to the side, her body slamming hard against the side of the trebuchet. There was a moment of dizziness, and, just as she regained her senses, she saw a bright flash over his shoulder, meaning the others were safely out of the way. She rolled, snatching up a discarded sword as he approached her. She had no idea where her staff had ended up, but it hardly mattered at that point.

“You’ve won. I’m as good as dead here, and I know that. But before I go, let me give you a word of advice.” She smiled, raising her sword. “Don’t waste your time with speeches when you have your enemy in front of you.”

She hacked the rope before her, setting off the trebuchet and starting an enormous avalanche. While Corypheus and his demonic dragon were busy watching, she turned and ran for everything she was worth. With any luck, she could-

Snow and rubble crashed behind her, sending her flying. As her body slipped between the cracks of some long lost construction, she prayed that what she had done had been enough to save the others.

“Where is she?” Cullen screamed, for what must have been the fifth time since the others had caught up. “You must know something!”

“I’ve told you- the dragon cut us off from her! I couldn’t see, I couldn’t get around!”

Blackwall’s voice rang out as loud as Cullen’s. The two men had been at each other since Cullen had found out he’d returned, and she had not. No matter what the others said, no matter how they tried to separate the two, they kept at each other’s throats.

“I cannot for one moment believe that you would just let her go! You profess to care about her, but you can’t keep her safe?”

“I DO care about her! Do you think I enjoy this? Not knowing where she is, or if she even made it out alive?”

“I think if you’d wanted to protect her, you’d have done a better job!”

“Like you did? You practically pushed her into it, and now . . . .”

Cassandra stepped between the two men.

“ENOUGH!!! I’m tired of listening to your constant bickering. If you cannot be civil to each other, then remove yourselves from each other’s company!”

They glared at each other for several long seconds, until finally Cullen stormed off, knocking over an empty crate and muttering to himself about what a coward Blackwall was. The man had been right THERE, alongside her! Yet he couldn’t save her, he couldn’t even tell him if she was alright. If he hadn’t hated him before, he certainly did now. It didn’t matter if the man looked overcome with grief, burying his head in his hands at the table! He had been there, and now he was here, and she wasn’t.

His head was aching again, and being so wound up probably didn’t help, nor did it help that he knew Blackwall had a point. He hadn’t pushed her into it, but he’d agreed to it. As a soldier, he knew it was the right decision. Sacrifice one so that others will live. But that didn’t stop him from regretting it, or wishing he’d gone himself, instead. He sat at his table, trying to breathe, while he watched the others busy comforting Blackwall. Meanwhile, he sat alone, his heart aching with worry. HE had been the one she’d been about to take into her bed, not Blackwall. He had been the one she’d confided in after Redcliffe, and the one who had comforted her. 

He’d destroyed half of the things in his makeshift tent by the time Cassandra came to check on him, furious at Blackwall, at himself, at the Maker. She asked him again and again what was bothering him, until he’d screamed for her to leave him alone. What could he tell her? That he missed the Herald? That he ached for her? That, somehow, the desires of his heart had gotten tangled up with the urges of his cock, and now, every time he thought of kissing her, or touching her skin, his heart twisted in his chest out of the fear he would never do any of it again? She’d hardly understand. HE didn’t understand. He only knew he’d give anything to hear Sparrow’s voice in his ear again.

“Oi. Broody-beard.” Sera called, and Blackwall lifted his head slowly. “Why’re you so sad?”

He stared at her like she’d grown another head.

“Like, I know you two were in the sack and all, and she’s the Herald, blah blah blah. But, like, do you really feel how you think you feel? I mean, we’re all sad, and we all miss her. Why’s yours different?”

“I-“ Blackwall felt himself choking up, so he took a deep breath. “I cared about her. Deeply. You don’t believe me either?”

“No, look. I know you cared about her. But did you LOVE her? Because I don’t know if I saw love. Plenty of lust, alright. But love?”

“What do you know about it?”

“I know love doesn’t sit around all mopey when they know it’s not what the person would want. And it doesn’t give up, or turn away, and it DEFINITELY doesn’t try to change the person.”

“I’ve never tried to change her.”

“Alright, fine. But just think about this, okay? Do you love HER, or do you love the IDEA of her. She’s not all strength and sunshine and sex. She’s got dark places too. But I’ve never seen her show them to you.”

Sera flounced away, leaving Blackwall deep in thought.

It would’ve been nice to say he didn’t know what she was talking about. To believe he’d let Sparrow be completely open with him, to bare her soul. But it wasn’t true. He knew there were times that things had been bothering her, and he hadn’t even asked. The few times he had, he hadn’t really made much of an effort to really find out, not like he should have. When she’d come back after Redcliffe, she’d said she needed space, and he had given it. But if the situation were reversed, he knew she wouldn’t have let him get away with that. She’d have all but forced him to talk about it, and he would have felt better. 

She had all this weight on her shoulders, and he’d made the relationship all about him. Sure, he’d convinced himself it was equal, since she was getting all the sex she wanted and he was giving her affection- but he got plenty out of that. He’d given her nothing outside of what had benefited him, as well. Maker, he was an idiot. He really was the poorest of choices for her, in so many ways.


	12. And I Rise

How many days had it been? It seemed like eternity, dragging herself through the snow in that tiny damned dress of Emmalin’s. At first she’d been able to use her magic to keep her warm, but as time dragged on, no food, barely any rest, she grew weak. Now she could barely summon enough energy for a spell to keep the frostbite away, and if it continued much longer, that would fail too. But still, she pushed on.

She could hardly believe it when she saw the grey tendril of smoke in the sky, it’s presence a reassurance that she was headed in the right direction. More than that, when she found it’s source, the embers were fairly fresh. They were near now, or someone was, and she could rest. For now though, she dragged herself forward. Her body ached from the cold and the snow, not to mention the fall, and she could barely remain conscious, but she had to go on. If she’d survived Corypheus, she could make it through this.

She barely heard the shouts as she pitched forward, falling into the snow. The next thing she knew she was wrapped in warm, familiar arms. Without a second thought, she curled her body against his, letting him lift her. Home. He was her home, and she wanted to stay forever. Then other arms reached out, taking her. Not the cold of armor, but soft velvet, and the rough scrub of beard. Then she lost consciousness.

Cullen had been overjoyed when he saw her out there in the snow, and he couldn’t get to her fast enough. She was alive, and she was here, with him. He’d scooped her up in his arms, cradling her to his chest, and she’d nuzzled into his neck, fitting perfectly. Maker, he’d never felt such warmth, such happiness. To have her safe, in his arms, had been all he wanted.

And then Blackwall had strode up, taking her away to the healer, and suddenly the world was cold again, full of dark loneliness. He had no right to her, no reason to complain about the loss, but he felt it with every fiber of his being. He couldn’t even go to see her, because Blackwall was forever by her side, holding her hand. He’d had to content himself with secondhand accounts, overheard in passing, and what he could see from a distance.

It wasn’t enough.

He wanted to see her, to speak with her. He wanted . . . .

Maker, he wanted everything. 

He happened to catch Emmelin on the way out one afternoon, and asked how she was. She looked at him like he’d sprouted wings.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself, Commander . . . ?”

“Cullen. I’m afraid it would be a rather poor idea. Her . . . companion . . . and I don’t see eye to eye. We got in an argument before she returned, and I wouldn’t want it to start again and disturb her.”

“He’s not in there now.”

“No?” 

Hope sprung in Cullen’s heart.

“He never is when we go to see her. Always leaves right as we’re coming in. Honestly, if he’s serious about her, you’d think he’d want to meet us.”

“Uh . . . yes. Do excuse me, Lady Emmelin.”

He slipped around to see Sparrow laid out on a cot, looking rather beaten and completely exhausted, but awake. She smiled broadly as she saw him, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful. At least, not until she threw her arms open to him, wordlessly asking for a hug. Of course, he obliged.

“Cullen! I was wondering if you were going to see me.”

“I didn’t want to intrude. Blackwall was with you, and-“

“You two had a regular shouting match, didn’t you?”

“More or less.”

She gestured for him to sit beside her on the bed, and when he did, she reached to take his hands in hers, pressing them gently to her lips. She kissed both of his palms, then moved one to cup her cheek as she kissed the wrist of the other. For a long moment, they sat in silence, and Cullen began to wonder if she was expecting him to kiss her. He certainly wanted to, but the timing seemed very poor.

“I missed you.”

It fell out of his mouth before he could stop it, and hung quietly in the air. Then she reached to put a hand on his knee.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I knew you had to, I knew it was the only way for us to escape. I just feared I’d never see you again, that-“ 

Andraste preserve him, he couldn’t even speak the words. 

Gently, she stroked the side of his face, and he shook his head.

“I’m terribly selfish.”

Smiling, she answered, “Maybe. But then, so am I. After all, who’s the one chasing someone, when she’s supposed to-“

She was interrupted by a great rustling, and the sound of Blackwall’s voice. Just as he ducked in to see her, Cullen disappeared.

“Who was that?”

“Cullen came to brief me on a few things. He figured it was best if he left before you came in, after your argument.”

“Maker, the man ought to leave you alone, let you rest.”

“I can only rest for so long, Blackwall. We’re stranded in the mountains with nowhere to go, and no one taking charge. If someone doesn’t get out there and do something, we’ll all starve.”

He left a bit later, kissing her temple. She frowned as he walked away, wondering what, exactly, she was doing. Blackwall cared deeply for her, and she liked him. He was kind, considerate, and up for almost anything in bed. He was exactly the type of man she SHOULD like. If he weren’t so much older than her, or if he were a noble of some kind, her parents would be proud. But he didn’t raise the same feelings in her that Cullen did. With Blackwall, there was always the sense of slight unease, like she never knew quite where she stood. She’d always assumed that was just how relationships were, until you’ve known each other a long time. Familiarity, complete ease with each other came only with time.

But not with Cullen. She felt as if she could tell him everything, down to the darkest depths of her thoughts, and he wouldn’t judge her for it. She never wondered if she were doing things the right way, or if he though she was too strange, or too vulgar. She felt like she could be herself. With a sigh, she rolled over, giving herself to sleep.

The next morning, she rose early, dressing herself and striding to where the rest of her advisors had gathered before anyone could come along and tell her not to. As she walked through the camp, she realized for the first time exactly how grim the situation had become. There was no sign of happiness or laughter anywhere. Every face she saw was taut and grey, full of worry. It was as if they’d all given up hope already. They’d made it out, they’d survived an attack on their stronghold, yet they saw nothing good.

Her advisors were just as bad. Cullen yelled at Cassandra, who snapped at Josephine. Leliana castigated her for it, and every one of them upbraided the others for not doing what was required. Sparrow shook her head, then walked casually over, leaning against a nearby pole.

“You realize none of this is helping, right?”

They all turned to her, stunned.

“You act as if we have nothing. It’s true, we lost a great deal, lives as well as our place of safety. But look around. We still live. I faced certain death, but here I am. We were doomed, but we made it. That has to mean something. I won’t give up and die wandering in the snow, and I won’t let anyone else, either.”

She moved to the center of the crowd, who’d all begun watching her.

“Look at us. We are HERE. We carry within us the seeds of hope that will blossom into a formidable force. We know what we face, and we know his plan. That alone gives us an advantage. Do we not owe it to those who fell to make sure their sacrifice is remembered? We will take our grief and wrap it around our hearts, letting it feed the fire within. And when we are ready, we will show the monster at our door that we have no fear of him. It’s he who should fear us! For we are strong, and every time he tries to weaken us, we will only grow stronger. We are the Inquisition, and WE WILL NOT FAIL!”

The applause started slowly, in the far corners of the camp, and grew, until it was an enormous wave washing over her. Even her advisors were clapping, save Cullen, who was smiling broadly at her, bursting with pride. He gave her a single nod, which she returned with a crooked smile. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her into a passionate kiss, watchers be damned. She was everything he’d thought she was and more.

Her brother and sister rushed over to her, hugging her tightly and throwing their arms around her to face the crowd. Cullen couldn’t help but notice that Blackwall was lingering on the edge of the crowd, keeping his distance, and it infuriated him. Maker, if she were his, he’d be standing beside her proudly, not sulking in the distance. She deserved that much, someone who was proud of the woman she was, the absolute force she held within her. Yet he cowered away, like an insect, unworthy of her presence. He’d never wanted to punch the man so badly in his life. He had the privilege of standing by her side, yet slunk away!

He left to wait out his anger in his tent, but was called soon to attend a meeting with Sparrow and the others. When he arrived, Sparrow was smiling, leaning over the table.

“Solas has said there’s a forgotten fortress nearby, called Skyhold. It’s likely in disrepair, but it should be safe, and easily defended.”

“How far?” Leliana asked.

“A few days walk, with everyone. He’s willing to give you the rough location, so your scouts can see exactly what we’re dealing with before we get there.”

“Excellent. I’ll talk to them straight away.”

“Josephine,” Sparrow continued, “please check our supplies, and inform everyone to start packing. I’m assured it’s less than three days, but prepare for four, just in case.”

“I will help her,” Cassandra volunteered.

That left Cullen alone with Sparrow, watching as she frowned over the map. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of mild amusement, the way she was so serious, and a small chuckle fell from his lips. She looked up at him, curious.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just . . . you’re so serious about it all. Not that you shouldn’t be, of course, but when you first arrived, you wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible, cursing at all of us whenever we asked something of you. Now you’re out here, planning, encouraging, protecting.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Still more than happy to curse at you, you bastard.”

“Quite.” He smiled. “I like seeing this side of you. So incredibly determined, fiercely protective.”

“I’ve seen what happens if I don’t.”

His face fell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend-“

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s fine. I just meant that I know that this is what I need to do. Honestly, even if I hadn’t seen the future vision, I’d be here. I’ve always been weak for desperate causes.”

“Then you must adore me.”

He hadn’t thought about it when he’d said it, the way it might sound, and panic rose in his chest. But she just looked at him with a soft smile, a gentleness in her eyes he thought would make him melt.

“I do, yes.”

“I . . . uhm . . ,” he stuttered, suddenly unable to form words. “I should . . . probably get back. To work.”

Andraste’s breath, he was adorable so flustered. It made her want to crawl across the table and wrap herself around him, kissing him until he couldn’t breathe. She might’ve done it, too, if it weren’t for the crowd, and Blackwall’s sudden appearance. Cullen excused himself with a glare at Blackwall, who only looked at Sparrow.

“I hear you’ve found us a place of safety?”

“Solas has, yes.”

“Not the way I heard it. They say in the crowds that the Herald of Andraste died at Haven, then was resurrected by the Maker himself, in order to lead us to safety.”

“Whoever ‘they’ are, they’ve got it wrong.”

“Don’t like being Andraste’s messenger?”

She shrugged, then sighed. “I don’t mind it, as long as people remember that I’m human. I’m not some divine being, incapable of wrong. Even Andraste was human.”

“That only proves you can be as influential as she was.”

With a frown, she responded, “I don’t want that, and I certainly don’t need it. I just do what needs to be done, because someone has to.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You don’t realize who you are to these people.”

“I don’t need more credit, and the only thing I want to be is what I am!”

Her outburst surprised him, and drew the attention of those nearby. Blackwall noticed that Cullen had stepped out of his tent, frowning, his hand on the hilt of his sword. With a deep breath, he gave her a polite bow.

“My apologies, my lady.”

As he left, Sparrow couldn’t help but feel that deep frustration, that gulf between her and Blackwall. It seemed that was how it was with them. He always wanted to put her on a pedestal, to lift her up as some perfect being, when she was anything but. She didn’t want to be loved for being perfect, she wanted to be loved for who she was, flaws and all. She knew she wasn’t perfect, nobody was, not even Andraste herself. For someone to hold you to that kind of standard, it was just a setup for disappointment for them, and a great deal of stress for her. 

She made her way to the edge of camp, sitting alone on a small outcropping of rock. Why? Why this, why her? To be with one man, who didn’t really understand her at all, to fall for another, with whom she felt as comfortable as she did alone, and not know how to deal with either of them? She didn’t know if Cullen felt anything for her like she did for him, this bruising ache inside, the desire to just be near him, for any reason at all. The wonderful feeling of HOME, more than any place she’d ever been. 

Footsteps behind her made her turn to see Cassandra approaching.

“Another fight with Blackwall?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

She paused for a moment, undecided, then spoke anyway.

“Tell me, Herald, why do you stay with him?”

“He’s a good man, Cassandra.”

“But is he good for you?” She sighed. “I realize this is none of my business, but I cannot help but notice that lately he seems to bring you more pain than happiness. Being a good man does not mean that he is the RIGHT man.”

“I know. I’m just . . . not sure.”

“I will say one thing, and then no more. You deserve a man who understands you for who you ARE, not who he wishes you to be. Being loved can be a great intoxicant, keeping you from seeing things clearly. Be certain you are in love with a person, and not simply the idea of being loved.”

With that, Cassandra returned to camp, leaving Sparrow to consider her words.


	13. To Shoulder the Burden

Skyhold was . . . well, it was there. Definitely cleverly located, tucked away and hard to find. Yet, somehow, people did. Every day, more people turned up, looking for the Inquisition. Some wanted to join the forces, to be trained and fight alongside the Herald. Others were simply lost, displaced, and looking for safety. Sparrow took them all.

One afternoon, she saw Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra grouped together on the edge of the grounds, deep in conversation. The moment she saw her, Cassandra gestured for her to come over. As she approached, the others drifted off, small smiles on their faces. Cullen even managed a wink, raising her suspicion more than it already was. Cassandra began to walk, and Sparrow followed alongside her, listening as she talked of the people flooding in, the rumors they were trading about what had happened at Haven. Most of all, she discussed Corypheus, and the fight that was going to bring.

“We know now what drew him to you, why he sought you out, and why he will continue to do so.”

“The mark is far more trouble than it’s worth, I’m afraid.”

Cassandra smirked. “The mark is not why you’re standing here, why any of us are here. It was your decisions that helped us to heal the sky, your determination that brought us alive out of Haven. You rival him because of who you are, and all of us here know that.”

Cassandra lead her up a flight of stairs to a landing where Leliana stood, holding a sword outstretched.

“The Inquisition requires a leader. Who better than the one who has already been leading it?”

A crowd was gathering below, looking up at the three of them. As understanding dawned, a look of confusion fell across Sparrow’s face.

“I’m sorry?”

“I won’t pretend no one will object. But you have lead us this far, and there would BE no Inquisition without you.”

“I don’t . . . I’m not . . . .”

Sparrow looked across the crowd again. They all had such hope in their eyes, completely unlike the scene in the mountains. They were all looking to her- what if she failed?

Then she saw Cullen up front, beaming up at her with his eyes full of pride. He believed in her, he thought she was capable- more than capable. His gaze said that he would follow wherever she lead, not because he loved or worshipped her, but because he knew, inside himself, that she would do the very best she could, always. There were no doubts there. He caught her eyes and gave her a small nod of encouragement, and she took the sword into her hand.

“I’m not perfect. I’m not Andraste, or the Maker- I’m just me. But, if you trust me with this, I promise you, I will do everything I can to make the world right again.”

A cheer went up, and Sparrow did her best to smile, when she really felt like she might vomit. It was one thing to lead unofficially, by example and by virtue of making the calls no one else would make. But now, she had a title, and the weight of everything lay on her. If everything failed, it would be her name in the history books- if there was anyone left alive to write it.

Sparrow and her advisors toured the grounds, discussing the areas that needed the most attention, as well as what their next steps would be. They certainly needed a recovery period, but they couldn’t pretend that Corypheus wasn’t out there, hunting them down even as they spoke. So, they narrowed down the unknowns to the ones they felt needed the most attention, and Leliana and Josephine set to work finding out whatever they could. Cassandra offered to see what had become of the Seekers, and any of the Templar order that may remain uncorrupted. Cullen, meanwhile, would oversee construction efforts, as well as training the flood of new recruits.

When they parted, Sparrow made her way to the courtyard, to be available for anyone who wanted to see her. Emmelin found her almost immediately, looping her arm through hers and leading her into a walk. When they’d walked in silence for a while, she stopped, turning to her.

“Inquisitor, now?”

Sparrow nodded. “Yes.”

“You know, I’m very proud of you, as is Markus. I’m sure Mother and Father will be, too.”

“But they didn’t want me before. Not enough to keep me at home. Magic was an awful thing, remember? I had to be locked away.”

“It’s been fifteen years, Sparrow.”

“So I’m supposed to forget it ever happened?”

“No. But you ARE supposed to understand what I’m about to tell you. They weren’t going to send you away because they were ashamed of you. Tensions were high, and every Mage was being looked at with suspicion. They suspected you’d be safer with others like you, not to mention the training you would get.” She sighed, tucking her fingers beneath Sparrow’s chin. “You were thirteen, full of anger and looking for independence. I was twenty. I remember the way things were.”

“They could have done something else.”

“Not with the rest of the nobility breathing down their necks! Remember, the Trevelyans are deep in with the Chantry AND the Templars. Do you think the fact that you were a Mage wouldn’t be used against them? They figured if they kept you safe in a Circle, they could be a moderating influence.”

She took Sparrow’s arm again, walking back to where they came from.

“You know, secretly, I was always glad you ran. I never had the courage. Now, look at me.” She stood back, spreading her arms. “A weak twig, raised in propriety and suitable only for marriage or a nunnery. And you,” she hugged her close, “you’re strong, independent, incredible. I couldn’t imagine a better future for you.”

Sparrow smiled as they returned to the courtyard, and Emmelin leaned to whisper in her ear.

“You have an admirer, you know.” She raised her eyebrows, her eyes darting to where Cullen stood. “He stares at you nonstop. Have you two . . . ?”

“Em!”

“I’m just asking! I know you’re supposed to be with Blackwall, whoever he is, but your Commander is gorgeous. Wherever did you find him?”

Sparrow laughed. “He’s an ex-Templar. Cassandra brought him in.”

“Templar? You know, if you hadn’t been a Mage, you’d have been married off to a Templar. Just imagine, if it had been him!”

“EX Templar, Em. He left.”

“Yes, but had he left ten years ago?” She sighed dreamily. “You two would make a beautiful couple. Just look at the way he watches you.”

Sparrow glanced over at Cullen, who gave her a shy smile. Emmelin immediately burst into giggles, making Sparrow elbow her.

“Em, you’re thirty-five! Stop gossiping like a teenager!”

“I have to catch up on all the years I missed with my baby sister! Anyway,” she frowned, “Markus and I are leaving tomorrow, to talk to Mother and Father. I’m certain they’ll support the Inquisition, especially with you at the head. They’ll be delighted!”

Sparrow grew solemn. “I’ll miss you, Em. I have, all these years. You and Markus.”

“We missed you too. But don’t worry, we’ll keep in touch. How could we not?”

With another hug and a wave, Emmelin strode away. Once she’d disappeared, Blackwall emerged beside Sparrow, a serious look on his face.

“A walk, my lady?”

Sparrow nodded, falling in step beside him. For a long time, he said nothing. They made their way onto the ramparts, where he looked out across the expanse before them.

“We’ll see Corypheus coming from miles away.”

She moved to stand beside him.

“Is that why you wanted to walk with me?”

“No.” He sighed before turning to her. “This, whatever it is between us, we have to stop. It’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“You’re . . ,” he sighed again. “You are the Herald of Andraste. The Inquisitor.”

“Nobility?”

“Yes, but that’s not all.” He took her hands in his, looking into her eyes. “I care for you deeply, truly, but it was never going to work between us. I was a fool to begin things in the first place.”

“I’m the one who started things, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes,well,” he cleared his throat. “I should have turned you down. I was weak- who wouldn’t be, in my place? What man would have a creature as beautiful as you draped across his lap and say ‘sorry, love, I really don’t think this will work out’?”

Sparrow laughed, and he cupped the side of her face.

“I don’t regret it, so you know, he said. “Being with you was the high point of my life. But I won’t be so selfish as to try and keep you. You deserve better, and I think you know that.”

“I wouldn’t say better, exactly. But I admit I’ve wondered if we were right for each other.”

“I’ll always admire you, and I’ll always be your friend, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course. If it’s not strange to you to have a friend who’s had your face between her legs.”

He guffawed. “Never.”

He turned to walk away, then stopped, calling over his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve seen the way Cullen looks at you. There are far worse matches.”

She watched him disappear through the doorway, then turned to look at the view. A crisp wind was blowing, sending a chill through her, but, thankfully, she’d found clothing more substantial than Emmelin’s dress. Her thoughts drifted to Cullen, and the fact that twice today, she’d been told about him “looking” at her. Well, what in Andraste’s name was she supposed to do about that? She had no idea what he wanted, she didn’t even know what SHE wanted.

She drifted away, back down into the courtyard to talk to her friends. After what happened at Haven, they had plenty to say. Especially Sera, who seemed on the verge of a panic attack. It had taken a lot of talking and a little alcohol to calm her down. Vivienne seemed more worried about her appearance than her health. Talking to Bull was good. It gave her a bit more confidence, and his offer to send the Chargers out looking for anyone who might be left wandering put her mind at ease. They also had a very productive conversion about the stresses she was under, and he agreed to help her with a few things she’d been wondering about.

She’d saved seeing Cullen for last, mostly because she needed some time to recover from Emmelin and Blackwall’s comments. She’d certainly known there was SOME kind of interest, that much had been obvious. But talking about admirers and matches didn’t exactly give the impression he wanted something casual. Then again, maybe they were imagining things.

She found him hunched over the table they’d used in camp, poring over a map and snapping orders at everyone who passed by. He seemed on edge, a deep crease between his brows. After watching him for a moment, she stepped over beside him.

“Do you ever stop working?”

His head jerked up.

“Inquisitor! I didn’t hear you coming.”

She stuck her tongue out, making a face of disgust.

“I like Inquisitor even less than Herald. You know I’ve asked you to call me Sparrow.”

“I think Inquisitor suits you. Will you still be going by Nightshade, or will you use the Trevelyan name?”

“I suppose I should go by Trevelyan. It’ll gain us more support, though I still don’t feel like it’s me. My sister, my brother? Definitely. But I don’t have the refinement. I’m far too course and vulgar.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all.”

She gasped in mock astonishment. “Commander, you take that back immediately!”

He laughed, unable to take his eyes off of her smile. Maker, she was a lovely sight.

“I . . . .” 

He couldn’t think of anything to say, but he knew he didn’t want her to leave. His brain was still floundering when she spoke.

“Cullen . . . what happened at Haven . . . I . . ,” she swallowed. “I’m just glad that you- that so many- made it out safely.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on hers, and suddenly felt an aching in his chest.

“It could have been much worse.”

More silence. Then she turned to leave, and before he’d realized what he was doing, he’d pulled her back to him.

“When you stayed behind, I thought . . . .” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “I promise you, I will never let anything like that happen again. You are . . . .”

He trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say. With nothing appropriate coming to mind, he cleared his throat.

“Your family is . . . interesting.”

“That’s a way of putting it. Do you know, Markus wanted to be a Templar when he was younger? I mostly only remember conversations about it, I was very young at the time. Apparently he was dreadful with weapons.”

“Yes, he told me about how he ‘almost’ became a Templar, but he left that last bit out. And your sister . . . Maker, she must have asked me at least three times today if I was bedding you, or if I’d like to.”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow. “And what did you say?”

As Cullen realized he’d backed himself into a corner, his face went pink.

“Nothing, of course! Andraste preserve me, I could barely look her in the eye.”

“She’d certainly bed you, if you liked. Kept going on about how gorgeous you are.”

“No thank you. I’ve-“ he stopped himself. “Never mind.”

She gave him a playful smirk, and he couldn’t help but return it. He wanted to tease her, to ask her if she agreed with her sister, but that aching in his chest stopped him. He might not want to know the answer. Yes, she’d slept with him, yes, she’d been about to again, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. She might have been lonely, or sad. Or maybe Blackwall was just terrible in bed. Either way, it wasn’t worth getting his hopes up.

Much to his dismay, he couldn’t stop thinking of her all afternoon, and, in particular, the evening just before Corypheus had shown up. Just thinking about the way she’d kissed him, and the way his stomach had flipped when he felt her bare skin beneath her skirt had him wishing he already had private quarters. As it was, he had to lay on his stomach to hide his arousal, which only tempted him to rut into the cot like a schoolboy.

He couldn’t help it, he just craved her company. It soothed him, quieted his churning mind. Even just the sound of her voice made him feel better when he started getting headaches, or trembling. She understood his nightmares, because she’d had them too. She seemed to understand everything about him. Even when he’d been angry and cruel to her, she’d asked Cassandra to keep him on. Like she knew. It terrified him, but it thrilled him, too. Like when he’d first started Templar training. It was all new, exciting and different, but it felt right, like he just knew he was supposed to be there. He felt the same with Sparrow.

It wasn’t right to want a woman the way he wanted her, he was sure of it. Not when she was already taken. But Maker above, he just couldn’t help himself.


	14. The Thrill of the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut*

He’d been in the middle of a game when she’d shown up, and the second he saw her, he couldn’t help but stand, almost running towards her. As Dorian let out a burst of amused laughter, he cursed himself silently. He’d barely seen her in more than a week, nothing but a passing word or stolen glance as she watched him work. Combined with the dreams he’d been having lately, he was almost desperate to see her. 

Now, here she was in front of him, dressed in . . . oh, Maker. A very, VERY nice dress, made primarily of strips of leather that crossed over her chest and around her thighs, save the corset and strips of fabric that covered her arms. The skirt, if you could call it that, was a narrow strip of fabric between her legs, coupled with a wider strip that covered the back of her hips, both sides falling to the floor around her feet. She was wearing a cape over it, but it did little to hide what the dress wanted to show.

While Cullen stared, frozen, Dorian struck up a conversation.

“Why, Inquisitor, what a lovely dress. Wherever did you get it?”

“Apparently my sister conspired with Vivienne and Josephine to get me, and I quote, ‘some decent clothes’. I suspect the designs may have been my sister’s idea.”

“There are more?” Cullen stuttered.

“Maker, yes. I’m fully stocked.” She leaned against the pole next to Dorian, where Cullen could see her. “I don’t mind them, really. They’re not as uncomfortable as you’d imagine. Not exactly good for fighting in, but comfortable enough for daily wear, and perfect for meeting dignitaries. Can’t you just hear them now, gossiping about how very exposed I was? Next thing you know, they’ll be calling me the whore of Andraste, instead of the Herald.”

“And you’d just delight in it,” Dorian smiled. “You’re far more like a Trevelyan than you know. Get into a position of power, and then dare someone to try to knock you down.”

She laughed. “Well, boys, don’t stop playing on my account. Are you being nice?”

Dorian pretended to be offended. “I’m ALWAYS nice.”

She stayed in place as the two finished their game, enjoying the semi-friendly banter. When they finished, Dorian walked away, giving her a sly wink. She strongly suspected he’d thrown the game, just to be able to leave. Andraste’s ass, did EVERYBODY think she and Cullen ought to get together?

From his seat, Cullen sighed.

“I suppose I ought to get back to my duties. Unless . . . would you like a game?”

As she sat down, she nodded. “I should warn you though, I’m terrible. I could never get the hang of it.”

“The only reason I’m as good as I am is because my sister and I used to play all the time. She always won, and she’d get this awful, stuck up grin, so my brother and I practiced for weeks. I’ll never forget the look on her face the day I finally won.”

He smiled fondly at the memory.

“Well, you’ve met my family. Tell me about yours, Commander.”

He shifted, somewhat uncomfortably.

“I have two sisters, and a brother, living in South Reach. I- I’m afraid I don’t write to them as often as I should.”

She didn’t try to insist when he changed the subject. After all, she could certainly understand not wanting to talk about family. One day soon, she’d hear from her parents, and, despite Markus and Emmelin’s insistence that they’d be proud of her, she couldn’t help but feel worried. Her last memories of them involved them planning to send her away, and despite what Emmalin had told her, it was hard to see it as anything but an act of cruelty, discarding an unwanted child.

“Inquisitor?”

Cullen’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Do you really have to call me that?”

His face flushed. “I’m trying to set an example of propriety. The soldiers must respect you, and must see you as their leader.”

Looking around, Sparrow nodded. “Ah, yes. I’d nearly forgotten we’re recruiting trees now. And stones, as well!”

He laughed in spite of himself, rolling his eyes.

“Laughter suits you better than a sour face.”

“I . . . .” He cleared his throat. “I think this is the longest amount of time we’ve ever spent together, uninterrupted. I’m . . ,” he hesitated, but knew he needed to press on. “I must say, I’m surprised that you’re not spending your time with Blackwall.”

“Oh.” She looked down, and he instantly regretted saying anything.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, of course. I do. Very much so.”

She smiled at the quiet way he said the last part, almost as if he hoped she wouldn’t hear. Quickly, she shook her head.

“It’s not that. I . . . we’re . . . not together now.”

“Oh?” Cullen tried not to let the hope rising in his chest come through in his voice, and failed miserably. “I’m sure . . . I mean, I’m sorry. It must be difficult for you.”

She gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, that he’d have sworn could’ve melted all the snow surrounding Skyhold.

“Not particularly. It was never going to work. He was far too happy to put me on a pedestal, and that’s not something I’m interested in. It’s too easy to fall from such height.”

Her eyes met his, holding his gaze steadily. For one instant, he fantasized about knocking the table aside and pulling her across his lap, moving to finish what they’d started in Haven. In that dress, if she truly refused to wear smalls, it would certainly be easy enough. Then he considered the fact that someone might see them, and found that excited him even more. Unfortunately, that made him feel rather ashamed, and by the time he’d worked it all out in his head, she’d returned to the game.

In the end, he won, as she’d expected he would.

“You’ll have to teach me, Commander. I’d like to improve my game.” 

He was walking with her now towards the great hall, where she had plans to meet with Josephine about some of the repairs.

“Besides,” she added, “it means we’d get to spend more time together. I’d like to spend more time with you.”

His heart leapt into his throat, hardly daring to believe he’d heard what he thought he heard. But he had. She had said that.

“I’d like that too.”

He smiled, giving her a playful bow as he left, and he walked across the courtyard feeling better than he had in a very long time. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Within a few days, he began getting headaches again, then the blackening vision. He was losing time, getting from one place to another without realizing how. The nightmares, which he’d been blessedly free from since moving to Skyhold, had returned, and dizziness became his constant companion. Finally, he decided it was time.

“You wanted to speak with me, Commander?”

Sparrow poked her head through his doorway, her look of curiosity turning into a frown as she watched Cullen stumble around the edge of his desk. She ran towards him to help, but he brushed her away, leaning against the desk.

“Cullen, are you okay?”

He hated the concern in her voice, that he’d been the reason for it. He didn’t deserve it, not at all.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He took a deep breath, then continued. “Lyrium, as you know, gives a Templars our abilities. Unfortunately, it controls us as well. If we’re cut off from it . . . well, some go mad. Others die.”

He straightened his back, forcing himself to look her in the eye.

“I no longer take it.”

Her face twisted in confusion and concern, but he pressed forward before she could speak.

“I stopped when I joined the Inquisition. It’s been months now.”

“Cullen . . . ,” She moved towards him, placing a soothing hand on his back. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

She ran a hand across his forehead, where there was a fine sheen of sweat. Blessed Andraste, her touch felt wonderful. He’d have loved to simply lay in bed, letting her run her hands over his body. He took a deep breath in, looking down.

“After everything that happened in Kirkwall, I . . . I don’t want to be bound to that life anymore. I’d rather deal with the suffering.”

“Are you in pain now?”

“I can endure it.”

Her hands cupped his face tenderly.

“But you don’t have to. Not entirely.”

“But, wha-“

She placed a soft kiss on his lips, then stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.

“A distraction?”

He could do nothing but nod as he watched the way she moved, her hand trailing around his desk. When she reached his chair, she adjusted its position slightly, then lead him to sit. Her hands ran over his forehead again, down his cheeks, and gently massaged his aching neck. Then she perched on his desk, taking his hand, and brought it to her mouth. She kissed across his palm, down to the pulse point at his wrist. As her lips closed over it, tongue darting out to trace, a gasp escaped him.

“Maker, that feels nice.”

“Good.”

She did the same to his other hand, and this time he watched, entranced by the way her mouth moved, the shape of her lips against his skin. As her eyes met his, a knot of warmth began working its way through his body. His eyelids fluttered closed with a soft moan, and the next thing he knew, she was slipping off the desk and crouching between his legs. Her position put her tucked beneath his desk, where she’d be hidden from view by anyone who wasn’t standing directly beside or behind him. As her hands crept slowly up his thighs, the realization of what she was about to do struck him, and he put his hands on top of hers to stop her.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands and brushing a lock of her dark hair from her eyes.

“If I thought I had to,” she purred, “then I wouldn’t be doing it.”

He released her, watching as she unlaced his pants. The instant her mouth was around him, his head fell back, a groan coming from deep within him. Her tongue worked against him, gentle but relentless, as her fingers dug into his hips. 

Ecstasy. This was absolute ecstasy. His fingers threaded in her hair as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth, until he felt the tightness of her throat around him. It was all he could do to contain himself, to focus on the feeling of her hands rubbing up and down his thighs, the way she moaned in pleasure each time his hips jerked upward. He wanted to remember everything.

He barely registered the sound of the door opening before the recruit was stepping inside. Thank the Maker that he was preoccupied with the papers he carried, or he would have seen the way Cullen jumped, wide-eyed, and looked down at Sparrow between his legs. She took her mouth off of him, smiling mischievously, and put a finger to her lips before taking him in again. As his incredibly hard cock rested inside of her warm, wet mouth, the recruit approached his desk.

“I have your reports from Sister Leliana. Would-“

“Just put them on the chair there,” Cullen snapped. “And give orders that I’m not to be disturbed for at least the next hour, until I emerge from my office.”

The recruit took another step forward. “But Sister-“

“I’ll speak with her later. Now go!”

The recruit jumped, dropping the papers and leaving as quickly as he could. Once the door had closed behind him, Cullen looked down at Sparrow again. She wore a look of absolute innocence, which made the fact that his cock was in her mouth that much more appealing.

“You’ll be the death of me, Lady Sparrow.”

She moaned, sucking hard as she removed him from her mouth again.

“At least you’ll die a happy man.”

He cursed as she resumed her ministrations, fingers running through her hair. He’d wanted to reply, but the feeling of her mouth was far too distracting. Even if he knew it was impossible, he wanted it to last forever, this feeling of her warmth, her happiness, her care. She was pleasure upon pleasure, an island of bliss in his often unhappy life.

Her mouth began moving faster up and down the length of his shaft, while her tongue swirled fervent patterns along the underside and around his tip. Before long, he was groaning loudly, constantly, and his teeth were clenched hard as he tried not to spill. He could barely breathe, it felt so incredibly good.

Suddenly his eyes flew open, and he pulled her hair back roughly, trying to give her warning.

“Maker above, Sparrow, I’m about to-“

She pulled her head forward, snatching her hair from his hand, and instead sped her motions, her tongue running swift circles around the head of his cock. The tightness and heat that had been winding inside of him took control of his body, his hips pumping upward into her mouth at a frantic pace. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to, and she gave no indication she wanted him to.

All at once, heat rushed through his body, her lips wrapped firmly around the tip of his cock as he spilled rivulets of his seed into her mouth. She caught every drop, holding it against her tongue as she lapped at him, determine to draw forth every last bit she could. As he collapsed onto the chair, she pulled off of him, but before she could move he grabbed her chin firmly in his hand.

“I want to see it. I want to see my spending inside of your mouth.”

The notion felt sinful, but he wanted it all the same. Urging him to scoot backwards, she looked up at him adoringly, parting her lips and cupping her tongue. There, just inside, he saw it. Thick and white, the evidence of his pleasure. A smile curved at the corner of his lip as his chest heaved. Maker, such a glorious sight. Her eyes met his, and he knew without a doubt she was enjoying this little show as much as he was.

Pushing his chair further back, he drew her towards him, out from beneath the desk and to the side.

“Stick out your tongue. Let it drip from your mouth, onto the floor.”

She raised upward, bracing herself on his knees, and brought her face almost level with his. Then, as slowly as she possibly could, she did as she was told. Her eyes closed as it fell from the tip of her tongue, dangling tantalizingly before falling onto the stone below. With one thumb, he wiped the remnants from her chin. Her eyes opened, a sultry smirk lingering on her gorgeous lips.

“Spit the rest, if you need, or cleanse your mouth. Then come here.”

As he returned himself to the confines of his trousers, she poured water from the pitcher on his desk and drank deeply, swirling it in her mouth before swallowing. Dutifully, she stood before him, and he pulled her onto his lap, stroking the side of her face.

“I’m not certain if you’re an angel or a demon.” She let out a huff of laughter. “I’m even less certain whether or not I care. But, Maker above, did I need you in my life.”

She smiled broadly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning in for a deep kiss. When their lips parted, he nuzzled happily against her throat for a moment before looking down as the mess on the floor and sighing.

“I suppose I should clean that up before anyone sees. Pity, really. I should like to leave it, to remember.”

She trailed a finger along his jawline and down to his chin, tilting his face up toward hers.

“Why only remember? Wouldn’t you rather just do it again?”

He laughed as he bit against her throat.

“Troublemaking minx. You really will be the death of me.”


	15. The Ties That Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut*

Meetings. Judgements. Overseeing construction plans and organizing the chaos before her into some semblance of order. And that was just before lunch.

It was every day, it had been, since they’d named her Inquisitor. Particularly since word had spread that she was the missing daughter of the Trevelyan family. Nobles from all over wanted to see her, to pledge their support and ask for favors. She smiled wickedly as she remembered a particularly satisfying incident, where a boy from her youth had come to see her. He’d grown into what she assumed most would call a handsome man, but she only remembered the gangly boy who’d pulled her hair and thrown mud at her. He owned a small piece of land, on the edge of an area of great conflict. Red Templars often crossed the corner of his land, seeking the apostates hidden nearby, and he wanted the Inquisition’s help in clearing them off. He’d called on their childhood together, calling himself an old friend. She’d agreed, eagerly, leaving him grinning like he’d just eaten the canary- until she’d declared his land a safe haven for apostate refugees, who wished to fight for the Inquisition. Now he’d have camps across the entirety of his claim, until she declared otherwise.

Despite those wonderful moments, the stress of responsibility was taking a heavy toll on her, leaving her muscles aching and her mind cluttered and reeling. That was why she was so grateful to have friends like Sera and Bull, who understood her need for slipping out of the confines of her title for a night. Sometimes, there were pranks, or drinking, or just telling outrageous stories. Other times, something a little more hands on was needed.

Cullen had seen Sparrow standing in the courtyard near the tavern as he’d been walking the ramparts to go see Cassandra. With a fond smile on his lips, he made his way down the staircase, hoping she would still be there when he’d finished his conversation. They’d only been able to see each other a handful of times since the incident in his office, and, blessedly, he had no responsibilities for the afternoon. He wanted more than anything to spend that time with her. As he turned towards Cassandra, he overheard Bull talking to her.

“Hey boss. How’re you holding up after last night? Everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m a bit sore, though. It’s been a while since I’ve had to get into some of those positions, and I’ve never been with anyone quite as large or strong as you. But thank you. You have no idea how much I needed that.”

Bull chuckled. “Oh, I could tell.”

He paused for a moment.

“Look, I don’t want to get into your personal business or anything . . . but it’s pretty clear you and Cullen have some kind of thing going on. Why didn’t you ask him?”

“Oh, Maker. Does EVERYONE assume Cullen and I are together?”

“Boss. Come on. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you, and you’ve made it a point to wear one of your ‘special dresses’ every time you’ve seen him. Now just answer the question.”

“You’ve got far more experience than he does. I needed someone who could take care of me properly, and make sure I get exactly what I need.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind doing it one bit. You’re one of the most amazing partners I’ve had. I just don’t want to get in the way.”

Shock, then sadness gave way quickly to rage in Cullen’s heart, and suddenly he wasn’t sure that he wanted to spend that time with Sparrow, after all. Alright, so they hadn’t exactly declared themselves, well, anything, but they’d been flirting around each other for MONTHS. He’d comforted her after Redcliffe, and she’d . . . distracted him from his withdrawal symptoms! She had sought him out even when she was supposed to be with Blackwall, and had told him after they’d parted that she wanted to spend more time with him. And now, now she was spending nights with Bull!

No matter how he tried to temper his rage, his anger only grew, until his vision was white with fury, and he could think of nothing else. Finally, he sought her out, finding her in the garden with Josephine. He approached her stiffly, trying not to give his anger away, but couldn’t quite hide all of it. When he spoke, it was through tightly clenched teeth.

“Inquisitor.” There was no formality, only tightly wound restraint. “Are you free? I would like . . . a word with you. Privately. Now.”

She nodded, excusing herself from Josephine. She waved her away with a stifled giggle, no doubt assuming they were off to some romantic mischief. Instead, Cullen clutched her arm tightly, almost painfully, and practically dragged her away into an abandoned room nearby. He slammed the door closed, leaning against it and breathing heavily. Sparrow moved to approach him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder,

“Cullen, are you alright? Is it the lyrium?”

He rounded on her, slapping her hand away.

“No, it bloody well isn’t the lyrium!”

“Then wh-“

“You do delight in being the ‘Whore of Andraste’, don’t you? Bedding Blackwall, me, now The Iron Bull?”

“Cullen, what are you-“

“Who’s next? Varric? Solas?” He stamped his way towards her, voice rising with each step. “Or should I line the recruits up, so you can have them one by one? Is that what you wish for? To bed every single member of the Inquisition? Or are you more ambitious? The whole of Thedas, perhaps!”

“Cullen, you git, SHUT UP!”

“I will NOT! You came to me, you-“

“Bloody hell, Cullen, I HAVEN’T FUCKING SLEPT WITH ANYONE, YOU BASTARD!”

He paused in his rage, suddenly unsure.

“Not since that morning in Haven,” she finished quietly. “I couldn’t. Not after you . . . .”

“What?”

He was completely thrown off, at sea with no land in sight. Somehow, something had missed him.

“I heard you, with Bull.”

She took his face in her hands. “Will you trust me? For just a little while? If you’re still angry afterwards, I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He nodded, still unsure as she took him by the hand. She lead him through empty rooms and down abandoned hallways, until they stood outside the door to her bedchamber. She opened it slowly, dragging him inside, to the foot of the bed.

“Look up.”

He did, and saw several loops in the high ceiling, with ropes of different color looping through and dangling down. Each of them were collected together, and held behind a metal hook on the wall, beside which hung several more ropes in various lengths and colors. He turned to look at her curiously.

“I like rope.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she pulled him to sit on the bed beside her, sighing heavily.

“Being the Inquisitor is an enormous responsibility, more than I’ve ever had to take on in my life. I found myself so stressed that I could hardly eat, I couldn’t sleep.” 

She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Once, on my travels, the group I was working with decided to visit an . . . unusual theater. Men and women hung from the ceiling, bound and woven together with ropes. I was fascinated. So, the next day, I stopped by the theatre to ask some questions. The woman I met with said that she loved what she did, because when she was bound, hanging, she felt like she was floating, and the world just melted away. She said it didn’t even have anything to do with the sex part- though that could be fantastic too. It was just about freedom, trust. Partially letting someone else take control, but you could also do it for yourself, trusting your skill, the strength of the knots and the rope.”

She took a deep breath, squeezing his hand tightly.

“So I tried it. And she was right . . . it’s the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. So I learned. And, when I found myself overwhelmed yesterday . . . .”

She shrugged. Silence stretched between them as Cullen tried to process what she’d told him.

“So you and Bull . . . ?”

“Nothing sexual. At all. I didn’t even remove my clothes, you can ask him. Normally, I don’t even ask for help, I just stick with self ties. But I can’t reach the ceiling.” She pointed up. “Bull offered help, since he knew what I was doing. I was really stressed, and it had been a while, so I accepted.”

“And you didn’t sleep with him?”

She laughed, crawling into his lap.

“No, never. Like I said, I haven’t been with anyone since we were together.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He let his hands fall to her hips, rubbing gently as he thought.

“And you . . . you like this, very much?”

“Yes.”

He looked into her eyes, and he felt foolish for thinking the terrible things he’d thought, and saying what he’d said. Her fingers traced his jawline, smoothed his eyebrows from their furrow. When she kissed his temple, he leaned into her chest, letting her hold him. Maker, what a fool he was.

He looked up at her again. “Would . . . would you like it if I were to do this with you.”

“Only if you want to.”

“I have to admit, it does sound rather intriguing.”

Her eyes sparkled. “You know, the ropes are already set up. Would you like to see?”

He nodded, and watched as she bounced over towards the ropes. After she’d closed the balcony doors, she started disrobing. His eyes grew wide, and she looked up at him with a smile.

“Normally, if there’s someone else present, I keep my clothing on. But this time . . . well, I think I’ll go without. Much more fun.”

He watched as her clothes pooled on the floor around her, baring every inch of her beautiful skin. Then she took a rope from the wall, carefully wrapping and tying it around her waist, hips, and upper thighs. He couldn’t help but notice how much it resembled the dresses she’d been wearing, and wondered if, when this was over, he’d be able to look at them without thinking of the way she looked, naked except for the rope. It hugged her curves perfectly, just tight enough to squeeze them and accentuate the softness of her body.

She pulled two ropes free from behind the hook, lowering the ends until they were level with her hips. Tugging on them gently, she threaded them through loops in the rope around her waist, leaned back, and began, slowly, to raise herself from the floor. When she’d reached the height she wanted, she took great care in tying it off, wrapping the rope around itself and threading it back through so that it would hold her weight. Cullen watched, mesmerized, as she began to shift her body, arching her back, until she hooked one foot around the ropes hanging from the ceiling. She dangled there, upside down, for a few moments, grinning at him. Then she unhooked her foot and righted herself, gesturing for him to come over.

The level of her harness put her at nearly eye level with him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Without having to bear her weight, his hands were free to roam her skin, and he couldn’t get enough. They were everywhere, across her hips, her back, her sides, as she watched him from the other side of the rope.

“Do you like it?” She whispered.

He leaned back, sexy smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“You know, I think I do.”

“Just think of all the ways this can be used,” she said, playing in his hair. “If I lowered myself a bit, or raised myself higher.”

Hands firmly gripping her ass, he replied “I’m currently trying not to. I believe that would require more patience than I have right now.”

She slid her hand down, running it over the growing bulge between his legs. A mischievous smile played across her lips as he tilted his head back, groaning at her touch.

“First one naked and in bed takes the lead?”

She snatched the rope out of its knots, stumbling as she fell to the floor. Meanwhile, Cullen was tossing his armor to the ground as quickly as he could, complaining all the while.

“It’s hardly fair- you were already naked!”

“Hey,” she retorted, “you saw how long it took me to tie the knots.”

“Yes, but,” he tossed his shirt to the ground, “you’ve got practice.”

“You don’t take your armor off regularly? How shameful, Cullen.”

They ended up naked at the same time, but she was quicker, darting towards the bed. At the last minute, he leapt forward, grabbing her from behind and rolling to his back to lay beneath her.

“You cheated, Cullen.”

“I didn’t. You only said whoever was naked and in bed first.” He rolled her to her back, pinning her arms above her head and kissing along her throat. “Besides,” he said between kisses, “I want to return the favor, after the other day.”

He kissed his way down her body, his hands moving to cup her hips, until he’d reached the hot, wet line between her legs. Without even a moment’s hesitation, his tongue dipped down between her folds, making her gasp in surprised pleasure. As he lapped his way farther and farther down, her hips moved beneath him, until finally he reached down, spreading her wide with his fingers. He pressed the flat of his tongue against her opening, and then, impossibly slowly, he dragged it upward. 

“Cullen . . . fuck . . . .”

“Eventually, yes,” he smirked, and she slapped his shoulder. 

She had no time for further comment before he’d buried his face between her thighs, ravishing her with his tongue. She came undone beneath him no less than three times before she grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head back to look at her.

“Cullen, by the Maker, if you don’t go ahead . . . ,” she groaned through clenched teeth.

“At your order, Inquisitor,” he grinned, kissing her.

“You’re such a fucking smart-ass . . . .”

Her comment turned into a deep moan as he pushed inside of her, taking up a punishing rhythm. He felt every bit as good as she remembered, fitting perfectly against her walls, just large enough to sting slightly. Before long she was clawing at his back, moaning and calling his name in desperation.

“Maker’s mercy, Cullen . . . you’re so . . . .”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence, he had her so wrapped in bliss. Leaning in to nip at her jawline, he whispered in her ear in a dark voice than sent a shiver of pleasure through her.

“You’d better pray for the Maker’s mercy, alright. I’ll have none.”

With a gasp, she drew him down into a hard, passionate his, the kind where teeth clashed and dug into the other’s lips. He caught her hands in a bruising grip, pinning them beside her head as he planted dark marks along her collarbone. His hips snapped against hers, hard muscle grinding against soft flesh, until she was wailing his name, tossing her head back and forth. She wrenched her arms out of his grip, wrapping her legs tightly around him and dragging her nails across his back in bright red streaks that made him cry out in ecstatic agony.

“Cullen,” she breathed in his ear, “I want you to cum, now!”

It was like she’d pulled a string inside of him. His body tensed, driving him deep inside of her as the heat of his seed poured into her. His panting groans rose into a deep cry of animalistic pleasure, while she came undone beneath him with a scream of her own, hot fluid rushing from between her legs. The urgency, the need with which they’d been chasing each other died down, softening into a state of relaxed, unbelieving bliss.

“That was . . . I’ve never . . ,” he panted in her ear, before leaning back to gently touch her face. “Thank you.”

A warm smile spread across her face as he gently kissed her.

“I ought to be thanking you, Cullen. That was fantastic.”

She moaned softly, happily, as she curled against his chest, his arms wrapping firmly around her. He found he just couldn’t stop watching her, admiring the way her lashes fluttered, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed- everything about her seemed like a miracle, performed just for him. 

“So, Cullen . . ,” she sighed, “did the whore of Andraste satisfy you?”

She giggled softly as he placed a hand over his eyes.

“Don’t. Maker, I’m so sorry. It was stupid of me.”

“Mmm . . . I don’t mind. As long as I’m your whore of Andraste.”

“Maker forbid anyone else be here.”


	16. Chasing Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut*
> 
> *spanking, domination, playful insults*

She’d left for Crestwood over a week ago. With Blackwall’s suggestions providing no tangible lead on the missing Grey Wardens, Varric had put her in contact with an old friend of his. Hawke had a contact within the Wardens, she’d said, who had strong suspicions about what was going on, too dangerous to put in a letter. And so she’d set out to meet him.

Days later, a message came, bearing no good news. Before they could even find the Warden, they’d had to fight of more undead than they could count, with more appearing every day. There was a rift, hidden beneath the water, that she would have to find a way to reach and close, and that was before she could leave to follow the Warden’s clues. There was no good news there, either. She didn’t dare put too much on paper, but the words ‘blood ritual’ were enough to put Cullen on edge.

She’d written to Cullen privately, as well- a letter that burned so bright it left him aching, and he was glad he had waited until he was alone in his bed that night to read it. It ended with a promise to return soon, and he read it so many times that he felt it might crumble to dust in his hands before she returned. Despite all the work he had to do, training, reading reports and planning strategy, and overseeing the last of the construction, it felt to him as if time were almost standing still. Without her there to sooth him, his headaches were getting worse again, and the nightmares were returning.

The day he received word that she’d be setting out for Skyhold within two days, he’d thought his heart might burst with happiness. Soon, for the first time in nearly a month, she’d be with him again. After that day, he spent hours out on the ramparts, watching for any sign of her return. It was there that Leliana found him one afternoon, sneaking up behind him.

“Eagerly awaiting our Inquisitor’s return?”

“Oh! I . . . yes, I suppose. There are . . . things to discuss, and . . . .”

“And you miss her company terribly.”

“Oh, shut up, Leliana.”

“Everyone’s noticed. The way you’re so jumpy whenever she’s not around, how you always watch for her return.”

“I am her Commander, Leliana. It’s my duty to see that she’s safe.”

“And satisfied . . . .”

Cullen felt his cheeks burn. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“No, actually,” she replied coolly. “I await the Inquisitor’s return, as well. I have news.”

Cullen turned with a start. “What news?”

“Of her family. They intend to visit, so we must reschedule some of her trips.”

Cullen was about to ask more questions, when a movement in the distance caught his attention. As it came closer, he saw that it was Sparrow returning, and rushed down the staircase to meet her, Leliana following in the distance, laughing. By the time she reach the bottom, the group was entering the courtyard.

As soon as she saw Cullen, Sparrow began grinning uncontrollably. She leapt from her mount, running towards him and jumping into his arms, her legs wrapped around his hips. Grabbing ahold of his face, she planted her mouth firmly on his, thrusting her tongue against his hungrily. All he could do was hold on for dear life as she kissed him dizzy, everyone else watching with great amusement. As he finally lowered her to the ground, Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know why they bother to try and hide it.”

Sparrow tossed her hair out of her face, lacing her fingers in Cullen’s.

“I hide nothing, Cassandra. I’m an open book. I just don’t announce things.”

“Inquisitor? I have news.” Leliana moved to walk beside her. “We received a letter from your family, shortly after you left.”

Cullen felt her tense beside him.

“They wish to visit, hopefully soon. I realize we have things that must be done, but, given their status within the Chantry, I thought it wise to move things. Their support could give us a great advantage.”

“Did they say exactly what they wanted?”

“Only to see you.”

“Doubtful. Who’s coming?”

“All of them.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yes, unfortunately that means we must give them a proper reception, and you must find suitable clothes.”

“Emmelin ordered my last dresses! Isn’t that good enough?”

“Not if we are meeting with them as Chantry representatives.”

Sparrow frowned. “Goodbye whore of Andraste,” she muttered, making Cassandra gasp.

“I beg your pardon?”

She spent the afternoon in conference with Leliana, Josephine, and Vivienne, much to Cullen’s dismay. It seemed the visit would be sooner, rather than later, and it was urgent she get suitable clothing. In addition, Josephine had gotten information about a ball to be held in Orlais, likely where Corypheus would put his plan to assassinate the empress in motion. If she was going to be getting fitted, anyway, Josephine said she might as well get a dress for that, too.

She came to find Cullen when it was all dealt with, slipping into his office as he was reading through reports. She curled herself into his lap, leaning against his chest.

“I don’t want to interrupt you, keep working.”

“You’ve been gone nearly a month. Do you really think I can just keep working while you’re in my lap?”

“I can leave?” She offered.

“Absolutely not. I’ve missed you.” He put his papers down, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s not the same without you here.”

“Leliana says you’re insufferable. You do nothing but sulk and mope.”

He frowned. “I do not.”

“Cassandra says so, too. And Josephine, and Varric, and-“

“Fine! I get it. I just . . . feel better when you’re around.”

She slipped off her shoes, turning to face him and straddle his lap. As her hands cupped the back of his neck, she looked into his eyes.

“How have you been? Are you alright?”

He knew she was asking about the lyrium.

“A bit rough. Some nightmares and headaches.”

“Nothing else?”

“No. Thankfully it hasn’t been that bad.”

She nodded. “Good. By the way, I’m staying in here with you tonight.”

“Not your room?”

“No. I don’t want them coming to find me early. Besides, your roof hasn’t been fixed, and I want to lay with you and look at the stars.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Hours later he was seated on the edge of his bed, watching her remove her clothes agonizingly slowly. He was still fully dressed, at her insistence, apparently in order to torture him. It was working. She still had her tunic to remove, and he was already painfully hard, grinding his teeth in his attempt at restraint. Still, she shimmied around him, giving him scant flashes of her perfect ass, sitting across his lap to kiss him and prolong her teasing.

When she was finally undressed, she tugged him to standing and then flopped across his bed, commanding him to disrobe. Initially, he was uncomfortable, awkwardly leaning his armor to the side while she smirked in amusement. Then he caught sight of the way she leapt to attention, her eyes wide, as he reached for the hem of his tunic. He pulled it up slowly, revealing the taut muscles of his stomach an inch at a time. By the time he’d tossed it to the side, she was at rapt attention, biting her lip and pressing her thighs together. Instead of continuing, he moved to straddle her on the bed. With his weight pinning her down, he pressed the hard line of his cock against her folds. As her eyes closed, she let out a lascivious moan, her arousal soaking the leather of his trousers.

“You’ve been a terrible tease. I waited for you for weeks, doing nothing, even after that letter you sent.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing? Really?”

“Yes,” he breathed in her ear, voice dark with lust. “Nothing. I wanted to wait for you, so that when you returned, I could take you with all the passion I had pent up inside of me, all of the desperation.” 

He trailed his nose against her jawline, breath ghosting across her throat. Goosebumps rose across her body, both from the shiver of his breath and the heat in his voice.

“I want to fuck you all night long, until you can’t walk. And then . . ,” he sighed in her ear, “then I will bury my face between your legs, where I will spend the entire day, lapping at your delicious cunt, until you beg me to stop.”

Her eyes rolled back as she moaned, the mere thought driving her wild. When she looked at him again, there was a sultry playfulness in her eyes.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t so pure, Cullen.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “No, not at all. I couldn’t help myself. Every time I thought of your luscious cock, I just got so wet.”

Her whispers were driving him crazy, the idea of her getting wet just thinking about him indescribably tantalizing.

“Tell me more.”

She sighed dramatically, as if confessing a dark, private sin.

“Oh, I was terrible. Every night I lay awake in my tent, all alone, thinking about you . . . your face, your body, the way your voice gives me chills. And sometimes, I’d come up with the dirtiest fantasies.” She pause to look at the way his pupils were blown wide, smiling. “I’d think of coming into your office upon my return, removing my leggings and sliding myself onto the desk in front of you. Spreading my legs and letting you fuck me until we’d soaked every report on your desk.”

He groaned, pressing himself hard against her.

“Or sneaking into the great hall with you, late at night, me wearing only a thin robe.” She sighed as he traced across her pulse with his tongue. “I’d sit on that throne, the one that’s supposed to represent law and order and everything good . . . and press your face between my legs, letting you ravish me like a filthy beast, rutting against me, taking me every way you can. And while I thought those obscene thoughts, I would slip my fingers inside of my dripping cunt, stroking and thrusting and wishing all the while I was with you.”

He moaned into her ear. “Depraved slattern. You ought to be taught a lesson for those vile, disgusting thoughts.”

He stood, pushing his trousers down and off with a smirk before grabbing her wrists and drawing her roughly to a standing position. His mouth was hard on hers, his kiss harsh and angry. Maker, how she adored this side of him, the darkness he held within. 

He twisted her around, tossing her to her stomach on the bed, her legs bent over the edge. It gave him perfect access to the curved mound of her ass, presenting it to him as if it were a gift.

“What shall your punishment be? Such grave transgressions- impure thoughts, acting on those thoughts, temptation . . . .” He moaned, laying his body atop hers for a moment to whisper in her ear. “Shall I spank you? Slap that perfect ass until it’s bright red and throbbing?”

She moaned beneath him, pressing her hips upward against him.

“Yes. And then . . . then I will take what I want from you, as penance for making me wait so long.”

She could hardly compose herself as he stood beside her, her body already writhing in eager anticipation. The moment his hand landed for the first blow, she cried out in agonizing pleasure as he growled above her. Then the second blow fell, and already she felt the wetness of her arousal dripping down her thighs. At the third, she arched her back, silently begging for his touch, for some attention on the slickness between her legs. Two more blows fell before he stood behind her, his hands cupping her cheeks, massaging them. One hand slid down to rub against her wetness, two fingers slipping easily inside of her. For a moment, his hard character broke.

“Andraste . . . you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She nodded vigorously, unable to speak, and he raised himself for several blows in swift succession. By the last, she was moaning continuously, her hips raised and bouncing in wordless begging. He obliged eagerly, grasping her hips and sheathing himself inside of her in one hard, swift motion. He wished more than anything he could have captured the sound she made, all at once surprised, blissful, and desperate. As she buried her face in the mattress to suppress her screams of pleasure, her hands twisted tightly in the sheets. Cullen’s fingertips dug hard into her hips as he pounded inside of her, his head thrown back as his primal nature took over.

All he had to do was reach around her hip, pressing a finger against her, and she came hard, in such ecstasy she thought her soul might leave her body. He tumbled into bliss soon after her, his body cradled over hers, kissing the skin of her back, fondling her breasts, and whispering to her over and over how he was hers, he belonged to only her, and he wanted nothing more.

Later, as she lay in his arms, he traced a hand over her backside, kissing her temple.

“I wasn’t too harsh, was I?”

“No,” she sighed into his chest. “No, it was perfect.”

A soft smile touched his lips. “Good. I enjoyed that, but I don’t want to cause you any actual pain.”

“So sweet. I’d never have thought you had this in you.”

“Why?”

“You were so strict and harsh when we first met.”

“Most of that was the lyrium withdrawal. I can certainly be . . . stern, but I’m not particularly cruel. Not unless I have reason to be.”

There were a few moments of silence before she trailed her finger along his jaw, gently drawing his face towards hers for a kiss.

“Cullen?”

He hummed in response.

“How do you feel about meeting my parents?”

His eyes flew open and the curtain of sleep that had been falling over him was pulled back dramatically.

“I . . . um . . . .”

She giggled beside him. “I don’t mean in any romantic capacity, not officially, anyway. But it’s inevitable, if they’re coming to visit, and I’m sure Emmelin’s told them all about you. The handsome ex-Templar who watches my every move . . . and we’re not exact subtle, as Cassandra said. I just don’t want you to be taken by surprise.”

“What do you think is likely to happen?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. My mother will probably approach me first, to ask if there’s something going on between us. After that, it depends on what I say.”

That knot rose in his stomach again, tension tight across his chest.

“What will you say?”

“What do you want me to say? It’s not as if we’ve ever really defined anything between us. That’s fine with me, but I don’t know if you want me to tell my mother what we really get up to.”

He chuckled. “Absolutely not.”

Sighing, he stroked the side of her arm. He had no idea what to call whatever it was that was going on between them. He only knew that he wasn’t interested in anybody else, that she made him happy, that she calmed his soul and satisfied his body in a way no one ever had before. On one hand, he craved her, but it went deeper than that, too.

“I don’t know. I’m not with anyone else, and I have no interest in doing so. But . . . I don’t want to put a limitation on it.”

“So . . . we are . . . tentatively exploring our options?”

“I think that would be suitable. What do you think the result from that will be?”

“A lecture about not getting my hopes up and taking it too seriously. She or my sister might corner you at some point to ask you about your feelings, but it probably won’t be too bad.”

“I’ll tell them the truth. I’m very grateful to have you in my life, and I have no interest in limiting you or holding you back. I want you to be able to live your life as you see fit, whatever that means.”

“See? Very sweet.”

She curled against him, both of them staring up through the broken ceiling at the stars above. As they began to drift off to sleep, she squeezed him tightly.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not interested in being with anyone else, either.”

The beast in Cullen’s chest, the one that had been pacing and circling around her, roared its triumph within him, finally laying down to rest.


	17. In the Family

Cullen stood nervously as he waited for Sparrow’s family to arrive. Since they were officially on Chantry business, the recruits had been told to put on their armor and were waiting in formation, with Cullen at the lead, Josephine beside him. Though officially, he was merely there to present the troops, it hadn’t escaped him that whatever impression they got would likely follow him into the more personal realm, as well. Whatever happened with Sparrow, he wanted to be sure it was a positive one.

Leliana and Cassandra, as the left and right hands of the Divine, waited at the top of the steps to greet them, while Sparrow was inside, waiting on the throne. He hadn’t been allowed to see what she looked like at all, though he’d been assured it was nothing inappropriate, and couldn’t wait to see. No matter how nice she looked in her next-to-nothing dresses, he had to admit, the idea of seeing her dressed nicely was exciting.

Her siblings’ carriage arrived first, and they exited and made themselves at home in the courtyard, exclaiming over all the renovations that had been done since their last visit. Markus strode over to Cullen, catching his attention.

“It’s good to see you again, Cullen. You’ve done well with the castle.”

Cullen bowed politely. “Thank you sir.”

“Please, call me Markus.” He stood silently for a moment, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I should warn you, Em’s been on a crusade to try to get you and my sister married off. She’s expounded on your virtues, your Templar past, and your current service to the Inquisition as often as our parents will listen. And I don’t know what my sisters have written to each other, but Em seems to believe that Sparrow is VERY taken with you.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smile. “She is?”

With a laugh, Markus answered, “So the feeling is mutual, then?”

Cullen didn’t have the opportunity to stammer out a reply before a second carriage entered Skyhold, and he brought himself to attention. The recruits followed suit, lining beside the carriage to make a pathway. As Cullen’s heart pounded, the door opened. The first to leave was her father, who looked like something between Sparrow and Markus, only older and more plump. Behind him was her mother, of whom Emmelin was the spitting image. As Josephine introduced him, Cullen bowed low before them. The two shared a glance before smiling down at him.

“I hear good things about you, Cullen Rutherford, commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” her father said. “Indeed, neither my son nor oldest daughter seems to be able to stop telling me what a wonderful person you are.”

“I . . .thank you, Lord Trevelyan.”

Her mother stepped forward, and at first he thought she was going to kiss his cheek. Instead, she whispered in his ear.

“Thank you for looking after my daughter. I’m sure she’s quite the handful for you.”

“I assure you, Lady Trevelyan, she’s no trouble, and I need no thanks. It is both my honor and my pleasure to see to her.”

As Josephine lead them through a basic tour and some introductions, Sera popped up beside Cullen.

“Oi. Commander Cully-Wully. The Lady wants to see you inside.”

Though normally he’d have snapped at her for the nickname, he was far too nervous to bother this time. Instead, he made his way into the great hall as quickly as he could without running. Sparrow, as expected, sat on the throne, and when Cullen saw her, his breath caught and he couldn’t stop grinning.

They had definitely wanted her to look as noble as she possibly could. To him, she looked like a queen. Her dress was dark blue, a royal echo of the dresses she normally wore, with a silver, cagelike embellishment across the shoulders and chest, and up around her neck, taking the place of a necklace. There were openings across her ribcage, and long, draping sleeves. The dress itself pooled on the floor around her, and it was only when she began walking towards him that he realized it had a deep slit at her thigh. She reached out to him, taking his hands in hers, and he pulled her against his chest, noting that the entire back of her dress was open, too.

“You look beautiful, Sparrow.”

“I’m so nervous. I feel like I’m thirteen again, and they’re going to try to drag me away.”

“They’re not. You’re a grown, incredible woman, leading the Inquisition.” He kissed her forehead. “Besides, if they tried to take you away, they’d have to go through me, first.”

She laughed, putting her head on his chest.

“So why did you need to see me?”

“Oh! I have something for you.” 

She pulled out a box. When he opened it, there was a silver pin inside, matching the theme on her dress. He looked up at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“I wanted you to escort me today, if you want. If you would. And I thought you could wear that. You don’t have to. Wear it. Or escort me. I-“

He pulled her into a kiss, stealing her breath and leaving her smiling.

“I want to. Both.”

There was a cough from the doorway, and they looked up to see Cassandra and Leliana standing there, Josephine behind them. Hurriedly, she helped him put the pin on his cloak, and he held his arm out for her. The two of them stepped towards the doors just as everyone else began filing in.

As soon as her parents saw her, they stopped, grasping each other’s arms. Suddenly her mother ran forward, throwing her arms around Sparrow. Sobs started coming from her, laced with apologies. Cullen felt his own eyes stinging as he watched the reunion. He couldn’t imagine the pain, not knowing where she was or if she was okay. He didn’t think he could bear it.

Her father came to hug her as well, similar apologies falling from his lips, though fewer tears, and then came Emmelin and Markus. Everyone stood around, watching the reunion, until there was scarcely a dry eye. Soon, applause began, and continued growing until it echoed throughout the great hall. Then, groups divided up, here and there, breaking into conversations and questions. Cullen stayed dutifully by Sparrow’s side the entire time, her arm on his. Occasionally, she would look up at him, adoration in her eyes, and suddenly his chest felt tight, the knot rising in his stomach, and he could hardly breathe.

When it came time for dinner, Sparrow sat at the head of the table, Cullen on one side and her parents on the other. Anytime his hand was resting on the table, she would reach out, resting hers on top, and squeeze it. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine, and soon he found himself holding her hand tightly on the table as they spoke with her family. Whether it was the heady excitement of her affection, or the warmth of the wine, he was surprisingly at ease, telling stories and laughing. She would stroke the side of his face, moving her chair closer. He would tuck a tendril of stray hair behind her ear, leaning towards her. His arm, resting on the back of her chair as they took turns telling an amusing tale. Her hand placed on his thigh.

By the time the hour had grown late, everyone heading towards bed, their hips were pressed together, his hand trailing gently along the bare curve of her back. Maker, it felt nice to be so close to her, and in front of others, too. Like . . . .

Like being a normal couple.

The thought made his stomach flutter, his heart swooping inside his chest, and he had to stop and take a deep breath. 

A normal couple. What did that really mean, anyway? She’d said already, they didn’t exactly hide anything. They slept in the same bed when they were together, and she wrote to him when she was away. When she returned, he greeted her happily. She kissed him in return. They worried for each other, they comforted each other- what was left? They’d both already said they had no interest in finding or being with anyone else. She said she hadn’t even slept with anyone else since the first time she’d been with him.

There it was again, that catch in his throat and falling feeling in his stomach. The thrill of knowing she was his, and his alone. But not that, either, not exactly. It wasn’t about the selfishness of knowing he alone had access to her, or that he possessed her in any way others didn’t. There was something else to it.

As the evening’s cleanup began, Sparrow tugged him behind her into her quarters, keeping her hand firmly in his. Once they’d reached the bedroom, she put her hands on the edge of his cloak.

“May I?”

He nodded, and watched as she carefully removed each item of his armor, placing it on a mannequin near her desk. It was a strange feeling, to let someone else care for it, somehow more intimate than being naked before her, but he found he didn’t mind at all. 

When he was down to his linens, she turned her back towards him, to let him help remove her dress. It took him a few minutes to find all of the subtle fastenings, but eventually he figured it out, and she stood bare before him. With a smile, she tugged off his tunic, but instead of tossing it to the side, as he’d expected, she pulled it over her head, pulling its collar up against her face.

“It smells like you.”

“If I’d spent the day training, I don’t imagine it would be as pleasant.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Cullen, I’ve been with you, I know what you smell like after training. Have I ever complained?”

Pulling her to him by her hips, he kissed her gently. “No. But generally speaking, both of us have been concerned by other things. Usually getting naked as quickly as possible.”

As she laughed, she put her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes.

“Stay with me, Cullen.”

“Of course.”

“No.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I mean stay here, in my room. Always. Even when I’m not here. I want to know you keep my bed warm when I’m gone, that, whatever hour I might return, I’ll find you waiting.”

“You mean . . . move my things here?”

“Yes.”

He let out a shuddering breath as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I would like that.”

“Good.” She kissed him. “Now, to bed with you!”

He crawled into bed, and she snuggled tightly against his side, her arm thrown over his chest.

“You really intend to sleep in my shirt?”

“It’ll smell like me tomorrow, all day.”

“So you want me distracted?” He smiled against the top of her head. “If I have your smell on me all day, I’ll never get anything done. I’ll be too busy smiling and thinking of your face.”

She groaned in mock frustration. “Fine then.” She slipped out of his shirt, tossing it to the nightstand. “Happy now?”

Laughing, he answered. “Quite. But we have another problem.” His fingertips traced the curve of her bare hip. “Now you are naked, and I’m not.”

“Then away with your pants, Commander, and come satisfy me!”

He spent most of the next day smiling and thinking of her face anyway. Especially the way it had looked as he was buried deep inside of her, the sun just cresting the horizon, while she came hard around him. She’d told him afterwards that no man before had ever finished her that way, just from being inside of her. Yet she always did, with him. He loved that about her, the way she came and pulsed around him, clenching him tightly inside of her. She said his body had been made just for hers, a perfect fit.

“Commander?”

Leliana’s tone said it wasn’t the first time she’d spoken. As he glanced around the war table, he saw everything from Leliana’s mild amusement to Cassandra’s outright annoyance. Meanwhile, Sparrow was doing her best to hide her laughter. 

“My apologies. What were we discussing?”

With a roll of her eyes, Josephine continued. “I’ve spoken with the Inquisitor’s family to secure us invitations to the Grand Masquerade in Orlais. If an assassin were to hide anywhere, it would be there. Orlais is the only thing keeping Tevinter at bay. If the Empress were to perish, all of Thedas would fall into chaos.”

“Does everyone have proper clothing?” Sparrow made a significant glance toward Cullen.

Josephine answered, “Most of us do, yes. Unfortunately,some remain . . . resistant to the idea.”

“I do NOT need some sort of expensive outfit to do my job!” Cullen protested. “If they cannot accept a soldier in his armor . . . .”

“Cullen,” Sparrow intoned, “I’m not fond of the idea either. But we HAVE to make appearances. Otherwise we won’t be taken seriously. If I can get dressed up, so can you.”

She looked at him firmly, one eyebrow raised, and the entire group could practically see the resistance melting. Finally, he sighed heavily.

“Alright. But don’t expect me to enjoy it. And I won’t wear anything ridiculous.”

“Fine,” said Josephine through gritted teeth. “Now, Leliana, you had some news?”

“Yes. Now that the Inquisition is growing, and we know what we are dealing with, I have arranged for specialists to come to Skyhold, to help the Inquisitor with her training. You don’t have to train with all of them, but you should at least pick one.”

“Noted. Cullen, would you mind meeting them with me to give me your suggestions? You have more firsthand experience fighting me than anybody else here.”

“Oh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

When the meeting was over, Cullen waited to walk out with Sparrow, offering her his arm. Instead, she slipped hers around his waist, putting his across her shoulders. After a few minutes, she leaned into his chest.

“I promised Emmelin and mother that I’d spend the day with them. I suspect they want to refresh me on appropriate behavior for the ball. Unfortunately, that means I won’t be able to steer Markus and Father away from you. I’m sorry.”

He let out a huff of laughter. “That’s quite alright. I don’t mind them.”

“You might when they start badgering you about marrying me. I’m certain Markus just wants a Templar in the family, since his dreams were crushed. Emmelin would marry you herself, if you’d have her. Can’t get over how gorgeous you are.”

“No, thank you. She’s a bit too forward for me.”

Sparrow stopped to stare at him. “Cullen, the first day we met, I threw a fireball at you. Within a week, I was laying on my bed beside you with my robe open, practically begging you to fuck me. But she’s too forward?”

“Alright, fine. I can’t help it if I only like you.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” She kissed him as they approached the doorway. “Anyway, good luck with my father and brother.”

He nodded, wishing her the same with her mother and sister. When he joined her in bed that night, the first thing she did was roll over and bury her face in his chest.

“Save me, Cullen, from my family.” She looked up at him. “Mother and Em spent nearly the entire day trying to plan our wedding! When I tried to tell them that we weren’t even CLOSE to marriage, Em just patted my hand and said ‘don’t worry about that, it’ll come soon enough’. As if they knew something I didn’t!”

“Well they don’t, if it’s any consolation. Not unless I don’t know either.”

She laid her head back down, drawing mindless patterns on his chest with her finger. She sighed, as if she had something she wanted to say, then stopped. Finally, she went ahead.

“Do Templars often have arranged marriages?”

“No, but it’s not unheard of. Usually only if a family is particularly well-connected in the Chantry, they’ll ask for the best candidates from within the ranks.”

“Like my family.” She twisted her lips in debate. “Mother told me something today. She said that before my magic showed, they were searching for a Templar for me to marry. They wanted us to meet young, to grow to appreciate each other and develop at least a friendship before we married. Do you know, when they asked, they were only given one name? Told he was the best, most promising Templar, a perfect match for the youngest Trevelyan.”

“It was me. Your father told me.”

She smirked up at him. “It’s so strange. If life had been different, we might be married now, with children. Settled in a little home in Ostwick, with me waiting eagerly for the times you’d return home.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad we met the way we did.”

“Yes, me too. But still . . . to think that we would have ended up together, anyway . . . it changes things, or at least the way I think about them. It makes it seem almost as if we were-“

“Meant to be together.”

He looked down at her, cupping her face, as he felt that strangeness inside of him again, that thrilling tension, the swelling of his heart.

Meant to be.

Fated.

As if an unbreakable cord held them together, pulling them towards each other. No matter what happened, they would find each other, again and again.

It was terrifying.

It was wonderful.

And, he realized as she fell asleep in his arms, it was what he wanted more than anything else in the world.


	18. Echoes in the Sand

Maker above, the Western Approach was one of the worst, most forsaken lands Sparrow had ever had the displeasure to cross. Baking during the day, freezing at night, and nearly every single creature you came across wanted to kill you. And that was before they’d even managed to meet with Hawke. After THAT came the blood ritual and demon army, only a prelude to the real, full-scale plans that the Wardens intended to unleash, one that would make every Grey Warden mage slave to Corypheus, and ensure there were no warriors left to fight.

The only upside to the trip had been in witnessing Iron Bull and Sera’s excitement at getting to fight a high dragon. Every time it spat at him, Bull would scream with fury and excitement. It would have been highly entertaining- if Sparrow hadn’t been so worried about not dying. On the plus side, she had some great materials to make new armor out of, if she could only figure out how to make it work. 

It had taken Leliana exactly three hours after she’d returned to Skyhold to ask Sparrow which specialization she’d chosen. 

“I promise, I’ll decide soon. Right now, though, I’d really like to wash the stink of dragon blood out of my hair, and maybe take a nap.”

Cullen met her in the bathhouse shortly after she’d gotten in for the second time. The first had gotten most everything out, but the second was for relaxation, and she was more than happy to have his company. She filled him in on everything about the trip he didn’t already know, surprised to hear that he knew of some artisans who could craft new armor for her from the materials she’d gathered. When she was done, she settled back against him to relax.

“Leliana says I have to decide on my specialization soon. The ball is coming, and now we’ll have Adamant to deal with, as well. What are your thoughts?”

“Well, I can’t say I’m fond of necromancy.”

“Me either, so at least that one’s out. Now it’s just fade magic or Knight-Enchanter.”

“Considering the mark, fade magic might serve you well.”

“Yes, but I also like hitting things, and having a magical way to do that might be fun.”

He chuckled. “You sound like Bull now.”

“No, I’d sound like Bull if I talked about hitting things, then interrupted myself to tell you that you have great tits, and ask if you’ve ever considered becoming a redhead.” There was a brief pause. “If I went the route of Knight-Enchanter, would I have to train with you to learn sword fighting techniques?”

“I suppose so.”

“Good. Decision made.”

By the third day of training, she regretted it. Cullen was a stickler when it came to technique, and he pushed her harder than anyone else. He said she was the Inquisitor, she NEEDED to be the best, but, sometimes, she suspected it had more to do with the fact that he thought seeing her swinging a sword around was pretty sexy. Especially when she stripped to almost nothing.

By the end of the second week, she’d gotten much better. It helped that Cullen had taken to massaging her at the end of the day, to soothe her aching muscles. Something about his big, rough hands all over her body was a VERY good motivator, especially when it often devolved into other things. Occasionally, bets were involved, usually benefitting both parties, in the end. 

That was how Cullen came to find himself naked and bound to the Inquisitor’s bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking over him like a predator, and for the first time, he started to feel a bit nervous. Especially when she started climbing over the foot of the bed towards him. She looked every bit like a cat stalking it’s prey.

It started with her hands. Soft, sweet strokes across his skin, barely even touching him at all, ghosting over his calves, his chest, his thighs. Then she began nuzzling her cheek and nose against him, throwing in gentle kitten licks across his hips, then an occasional bite. Her tongue circled his nipples and he thought he might cry out from the sudden pleasure. When she began to suck one, he let out a long, drawn out moan, gasping for breath as her fingers played with the other.

She spread herself across him, straddling his hips to lean and suck the tender skin of his throat, and he could feel her wetness against him, warm and inviting. A part of him wanted to buck his hips, arch his back, to see if he could get her where he wanted her, but he held fast. He’d promised her this. He could wait.

Then she started moving, rubbing herself against him on purpose, moaning in his ear. Her hips slid back, back, until she was resting against him, sliding up and down his length and spreading her wetness along him.

“Sweet Maker . . . Andraste . . . Andraste preserve me . . . ,” he gasped piteously.

He felt her grin against his chest, where she’d resumed playing with his nipples. “Andraste won’t save you here, love. I don’t think this is her territory.”

The sensual purr of her voice made the torture ten times worse, his cock flexing painfully against her, and she drew back. The sudden loss of contact made him cry out, whining, begging for her to come back, to touch him again, something, anything. Instead, she kissed him, wet and sloppy and wonderful, then ducked down between his legs. Her finger traced the line of him, the thick vein on his underside, before she reached and pulled back his foreskin with one hand. With the other, she propped herself up as she began slowly licking him, her tongue tracing around his head, lapping gently against his slit.

Oh, Maker, this was paradise and agony all at once, enough attention to rile him up without being enough to give him some kind of release. And he couldn’t even touch her, to stroke her hair or caress her face and let her know how incredibly perfect she was. No, he was bound, held back to only receive what she allowed. His hips rocked upward with the rhythm of her licks, his body moving of its own accord, on instinct, in desperation. Even in his head, he could form no coherent thoughts, only scream internally for more, more, and more.

He was a helpless, hopeless, moaning mass beneath her, hands straining at the ropes that held him. His head tossed back and forth, his body rigid with the tension of being held back from the precipice he so badly wanted to crest. Still she teased.

The headboard began to creak, straining from the pressure of his tormented body, as she raised herself over him, his head brushing lightly against her opening. Again and again she did it, taunting him with the barest nudge inside, then pulling herself off again. If he tried to buck upwards, to hilt himself inside of her, she only laughed, moving away and giving him nothing. Everything in his body wanted her, every fiber of his being craved her touch. It was like a fever running through his body, bound to break.

Then, something did break, with a great cracking sound. Suddenly Cullen’s hands were free and he grasped Sparrow by the hips, throwing her onto her back and crashing his mouth against hers. He wasted no time in sheathing himself, showing no mercy in his relentless pounding rhythm. Sparrow could do nothing but gasp beneath him as he took for himself what she’d denied him.

When he had spent, and his fever had cooled, he laid collapsed on top of her, panting. Suddenly, she started laughing.

“Cullen . . ,” she could barely restrain herself. “Cullen . . . you broke the bed!”

He looked up, and sure enough, the pillars on each side of the headboard were cracked in half, the tops laying crookedly at the head of the bed. His wrists were still tied, but bound to nothing, and it was the same at his feet. He couldn’t help it. He started laughing too, the two of them curled together in their mirth.

“Andraste’s ass, Cullen! What are we supposed to tell Josephine?”

“Anything but the truth, please. They think I’m desperate enough for you already.”

“Well obviously they’re right . . . you broke a bed!”

“It was absolutely worth it.”

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, laughing for everything she was worth as he buried his face in her neck. Cullen realized that, for the first time since he could remember, he was genuinely happy. No worries eating away at him, no fears of oncoming hallucinations or withdrawal symptoms. He just existed, there in her arms.

The next morning, Sparrow broke the news to Josephine, who, as expected, was none too happy.

“Inquisitor, would you mind explaining to me, please, exactly how you managed to break a bed?”

Behind Josephine, Leliana was doing her best to hide her laughter.

“Swordplay. I was practicing.”

“Really? Because this post is suspiciously lacking in sword marks.”

“Hey, it was well made. Until the point where it broke?”

Giving up, Josephine walked away, muttering Antivan curses under her breath. Meanwhile, Leliana turned to Sparrow.

“Excellent cover story. Though I myself might have said I was trying to move the bed and it tipped over. Still, that wouldn’t explain the ropes . . . .”

She walked away, tossing a mischievous glance over her shoulder, and Sparrow knew, without a doubt, that this wasn’t the end. The woman knew how to use her information, and while she was certain she’d never try to blackmail her, she would ABSOLUTELY be teasing Cullen about it.

Part of that teasing was, apparently, a bed made of stone. According to Leliana it was a gift from the Dwarven envoy they’d assisted, but Josephine had no knowledge of it. Judging by the pink in Cullen’s cheeks, he got the message. She also made plenty of use of particular phrases in the war room, such as the Commander “having his hands tied” in a situation, or being “bound” by his duty. She was so skilled at it that Cullen could barely speak around her for at least a week.

Whether that had anything to do with what happened, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was because Sparrow had gone again, back to the Western Approach to secure an old Keep that had been taken by the Venatori. The more they learned about them, the more certain they became that they couldn’t be allowed to have a foothold anywhere, especially not with Sampson at the helm. 

Cullen had known him once, a long time ago. He was part of the reason he’d decided to quit taking lyrium. Sampson had become hopelessly addicted, willing to do anything for it, and he knew he didn’t want to end up the same way. Sampson’s addiction was likely how Corypheus had gotten ahold of him in the first place.

Three days after Sparrow had left, Cullen got a splitting headache that he couldn’t push through for anything. None of his usual distractions worked, and it kept getting worse all day, until finally he’d had to ask someone else to take over training. He’d retired to his bed, nauseous, sweating, and didn’t get up until the next evening. Afterward, he’d felt a bit dizzy, but he’d been fine.

The next night the dreams started again, horrible nightmares with faceless demons destroying everything he cared about. By the end of the week, he’d lost count of the times he’d watched Sparrow tortured and ripped apart, taken over by demons and made to torture him, in turn. Sleep became not a restful break, but a chore he dreaded and began to avoid at all costs. 

The second headache came, worse than the first, and this time he sincerely contemplated ending it all, just to be free of the pain. Even sleep didn’t help, because that was where the nightmares waited. When he was awake, he was usually bent over a bucket, emptying the contents of his stomach until there was nothing left, and then just heaving over and over, until his muscles cramped from the tension. He could barely even keep down a few sips of water.

When that headache abated, he went to see Cassandra.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you can. You are stronger than this.”

“But for how long? The past three weeks, I’ve been unable to work on two occasions, each lasting at least forty-eight hours. If I cannot do my job-“

“Then we will discuss it. But missing a few days of training doesn’t count as being unable to fulfill your duties.”

“Cassandra-“

“At least wait until the Inquisitor is back, alright? If you still feel incapable, we will talk to her.”

“I don’t want her to know about this. She has enough to worry about, I will not be a further burden.”

“You know as well as I do she would not consider it a burden. She cares for you, Cullen. More than I think you know.”

He let it go after that. If Cassandra wanted to talk to Sparrow, he knew he had to find some way to keep it together, because he didn’t want her to know exactly how bad things had gotten. He was supposed to be a source of strength for her, not some weakling for her to take care of.

He busied himself with training, and avoided sleeping as much as he could. He paced the floor of her chamber night after night, waiting for her to come home, hoping that, when she did, his brain would calm down again, his hands would steady. On the occasions he couldn’t avoid sleep, he pressed his face into her pillow, taking in her scent, and praying that it would be enough to help him through. Most mornings he woke up, and it was wet with his tears.

He became distracted. More and more often he was injured during training, simple mistakes that he should never have made. He missed meals as he pored over his paperwork, reading the same page again and again, and not remembering a single word. He walked the ramparts in a daze, hoping for Sparrow’s return. She wrote to him, notes sometimes bright with lust, but often they were soaked in sadness, missing him, missing their bed, their time together. It was a comfort, at least, to know he wasn’t alone in his loneliness. More than once, he thought of asking her to return, or asking for permission to go to her, but he knew it was ridiculous. She had her job to do, and he had his.

When the nightmares began appearing in daylight hours, when he was fully awake, he started to worry. Demons poured from cracks in the walls, only to turn into dark insects, then nothing more than a shadow, filtering in from outside. A recruit charged at him, eyes full of fury and red lyrium, but only asked about the latest report, or to bring him a letter from Sparrow.

He wrote to his sister, after the third letter in which she’d asked about Sparrow, hoping that it would ease his mind to talk to someone about her, to list all of the reasons she was an incredible person. He told her of meeting her family, of finding out they might have been betrothed if she hadn’t been a Mage. In a confession that surprised even him, he told her that he hoped one day they might come to see her together, so she could meet the woman who had made him so incredibly happy.

It didn’t help.

Finally, he went to Cassandra again.

“You have to name a replacement for me.”


	19. To Persevere

Cassandra stared blankly at Cullen, unable to comprehend what he’d just said.

“Cassandra, you have to name a replacement for me.”

“I will not!”

“Cassandra, I can’t do this anymore!” He slammed a fist on the table. “The headaches, the hallucinations . . . I can’t sleep, not without seeing . . . .” He paused to take a breath. “Please. You have to.”

“This is temporary, you know this. It will pass, as it always has.”

“Even if it is, I cannot function this way! Recruits are being trained by others, reports lay unread- you MUST do this.”

“I tell you again, I do not see the need. You are strong, you can handle this.”

“You gave me your word. You promised that if I could not-“

“I haven’t seen that! Cullen, get some rest, when the Inquisitor returns-“

The door opened, and Sparrow walked inside. As soon as she saw their faces, she knew something was going on.

“Is there a problem?”

Cullen turned to slip out, refusing to even look at her.

“No. There is no problem,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

After watching him close the door behind him, Sparrow turned to Cassandra, one eyebrow raised. With a sigh, Cassandra spoke.

“I assume Cullen told you that he’s no longer taking lyrium?”

“Yes, and I’m very proud of him for it. It took a great deal of courage.”

“He wants me to name a replacement for him. I refuse to, I don’t think it’s necessary, but he is . . . very stubborn.”

“You mean he’s being an ass?”

Cassandra laughed. “Yes.” Her voice lowered, sounding sad. “I can’t do that to him. He’s done so much, come so far. To lose everything he’s worked for . . . it would destroy him.”

“So we need to change his mind.”

Cassandra nodded. “Talk to him.”

Sparrow turned, making her way towards Cullen’s office. Just as she was about to walk through the door, he growled in anger, throwing a box at the door. It hit the wall right beside her head, shattering, as Cullen gasped.

“I’m sorry. I . . . I didn’t see you there.”

She strode swiftly around the desk, putting her hands on his shoulders as he hunched against it.

“I couldn’t care less about that. What I care about is you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intent this to interfere, to-“

“Fuck interfering, Cullen. Are you alright? That’s all that matters to me right now.”

“I am . . . yes. Maybe.” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Cullen . . . .”

He shook his shoulders, throwing off her hands and striding to look out of the window. After a few minutes, he began to speak quietly.

“I . . . in the Circle, in Ferelden . . . .”

He trailed off, and she wasn’t sure at first if he was going to finish. Then he started speaking again, as she slowly crossed the room to stand behind him.

“Abominations took over. I saw my friends . . . they were . . . slaughtered. I was tortured, they tried to break my mind.” He laughed, completely devoid of mirth. “How can you be the same person after that?”

She moved beside him, slipping her hand in his.

“Then, in Kirkwall, a Kknight-Commander I trusted let her fear of Mages end in madness. Innocent people fell, died in the streets. I was a part of that! Can’t you see, can’t you understand why I want nothing to do with that life, nothing tying me to it?”

He looked at her, so sad it made her heart feel as if it was breaking in her chest, as if his pain were hers, too. Tenderly, she reached to stroke the side of his face.

“Of course I do.”

He turned again, slapping her hand away.

“You should be questioning this. I swore myself to this cause! These lives, all these lives depend on our success, yet I weaken myself!”

He began pacing, voice rising in agitation.

“I thought that if I did this, if I followed through, things would be better, that I’d be in control . . . but these . . . thoughts, these nightmares, they don’t leave me! I cannot have peace! And if I cannot . . . I should be taking it! I should give everything, all that I have, no less to the Inquisition than to the Chantry! I should be taking it!” His fist met the nearest item, a bookshelf, and several tumbled to the floor at the impact. “I . . . I should be . . . .”

His voice was quavering with emotion as he rested his head on his arm, leaning against the bookcase. Sparrow ducked beneath, standing in front of him and taking his face in her hands. When she spoke, it was with a quiet insistence that brooked no disagreement.

“Fuck the Inquisition, and fuck the Chantry. Cullen, what is it that YOU want? Do you want to go back on lyrium?”

“No, but . . . .”

“No. No! This is about you, your choice. Don’t decide for anyone or anything else.”

He looked at her, cupping her face tenderly for a moment before taking her into his arms. He stroked the back of her hair, kissing it softly.

“You should know . . . these memories, these dreams- they’ve always haunted me. They likely always will. If I become . . . if you cannot stand . . . .”

She put a finger to his lips, shushing him, before pulling him down into a deep, tender kiss, full of sweetness and care. When she let him go, she took his hand and put it over her heart.

“As long as this beats, I’m here for you. Nothing will change that. Whatever you need from me, I’ll give you. Always.”

He smiled softly, putting his forehead against hers and cupping the back of her neck.

“I don’t deserve you, the care you give me. I could live a million lifetimes and I still wouldn’t be deserving.”

“Yes, Cullen, you are. You deserve it all and more.”

That night, he poured everything he had into loving her, into bringing her every drop of pleasure he could wring from her body. It wasn’t rushed with the heat and passion customary to her returns, but slow, tender. As if he could convey to her with his body all of the emotions his mouth couldn’t say. And she returned it all to him, as if they were one being, and whatever one should feel, the other did as well.

When she woke the next morning, he was standing on the balcony, wearing just his trousers. For a few minutes, she simply admired him, the way his muscular form was silhouetted against the rising sun, the gold of his hair catching the light. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight, at the knowledge that this man, this incredible, beautiful, resilient man cared for her.

She slipped his tunic over her head, padding out in her bare feet behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and he shifted, just enough to pull her to his warm, broad chest. He simply held her there, looking out over the horizon, before breathing in deeply and letting out a contented sigh.

“Feeling better?”

He smiled down at her, honeyed eyes glowing in the first light of the day.

“Yes. Very much.” Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he continued. “You know, I’d never really told anyone what happened to me, before. I’d always assumed I should bear it alone, not burden anyone. But I’m glad I told you.”

“Me too. I want to know these things, good and bad. I want to understand the things that make you who you are.”

“I’m afraid that was an event that made me a terrible person for a long while. I spent so long with anger eating away at me, and I let that anger control me. I made decisions that were unworthy of me. I though of all Mages as the ones there . . . if I had remained so, if I had let myself continue to hate so thoroughly . . . .”

“You didn’t like me much to start with,” she teased, and he groaned.

“I know. It was terrible of me. I was attracted to you instantly, and I hated you for that. I thought of you as nothing more than a temptation, something I should overcome. But I am glad I got to know you. To have missed out on one of the few truly good things in my life . . . I can’t imagine it.”

“I felt the same, when I first saw you. So terribly handsome- but I’ve never been one to resist temptation. Especially not when it has such a lovely ass.”

She squeezed him to make her point, and he leaned down to kiss her. They stood on the balcony together, watching the sun rise, until finally Cullen sighed.

“I need to get down to training.”

“I know. I’ve got my own work to do. Hopefully it won’t take me away from Skyhold any time soon.”

“That would be nice.” He sighed, as he began getting dressed. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I should probably tell you that I wrote to my sister about you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ooh . . . what did you say?”

“I told her that I was sorry for not writing sooner. She’d given me an earful for not letting her know I’d survived Haven. And I told her that I was happy to say that I’d met someone, a very lovely woman who also happens to be the Inquisitor, so she could stop worrying about me so much.”

“Is that all?”

“No. I told her who your family was- I’m certain she knows of you- and that I’d met them. In retrospect, that might have been a mistake. She’ll probably assume we intend to get married, and it’ll be the same thing with your family all over again.” He shook his head. “But . . . I also told her that I’d visit her, as soon as I could . . . and that I hoped to bring you when I did.”

He smiled at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. It couldn’t exactly be helped that he’d met her family, they’d come to Skyhold, and as her Commander, it had been his duty to meet them. But for her to meet his family . . . that had to be intentional, organized. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to say to Mia. It would appease her, since she’d probably be upset that he’d already met Sparrow’s family. But he also WANTED her to meet his family. He just didn’t know if it was what SHE wanted.

“That’s wonderful, Cullen!” She beamed at him, clearing away his doubts. “You’ll have to tell me everything. What’s your sister like? Does she look like you? And your brother! Is your family anything like mine, or are they normal?”

He laughed, taking her hands in his. “I’m glad you’re excited. I was worried I’d said the wrong thing.”

“Cullen, they’re your FAMILY. Why wouldn’t I want to meet them?”

“You know . . . I think we might have some things that need to be done, in Ferelden. If you’re interested, I thought you could come along?”

“Just the two of us?”

“Hopefully, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Should I make arrangements?”

She nodded. Several days later, she found Cullen leading her down a worn pier beside an isolated lake. He stood behind her, placing his hands on her waist gently. After kissing the top of her head, he placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I grew up near here, not far away. I’d come here often, whenever I needed some peace and quiet, to clear my head.”

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, leaning back against him. Nuzzling into her neck, he placed a kiss on her jaw.

“There are some things far more beautiful.”

Laughing, she turned to face him, putting her arms around his neck. “You’ve changed, Cullen. Not long ago, you’d never have brought a Mage alone to someplace like this.”

“You changed me. You refused to let me see you as anything other than a person, one who happened to have magical abilities. You met my anger with your own, and brought me into understanding. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

He held her for a few moments before she looked up at him.

“Cullen?” He hummed in response. “Did you ever swim here?”

“On occasion, when I was young . . . .”

He watched as she immediately started shedding her clothes, until she was standing nude before him. Then she sat on the edge of the pier, slipping down into the water. Ducking her head beneath the water, she looked up to see him watching her in mild amusement.

“Are you going to leave me to swim alone?”

He shook his head before beginning the process of stripping down, carefully piling his armor to the side and leaving his sword in easy reach. Once he’d gotten into the water, she swam up to him, leaning to kiss him deeply. 

“I’m glad we met, Cullen.”

It was a few moments of being completely carefree in a world that put both of them in constant danger, and they treasured it. All too soon, they would have to return to Skyhold, to war and worry. Cassandra had asked Sparrow to help her follow a lead on the missing Seekers, and Leliana had finally found some information on the bizarre shards they’d been finding all over. Cullen had plenty of reports to go through, and there were always new recruits now, ones who needed training. 

But all of that could be dealt with later. For now, all they needed was the cool water, the moonlight, and each other’s arms.


	20. Finding Seekers

“Are you certain you’re alright?”

It was at least the fifth time Cullen had asked her since she’d returned to Skyhold, after finding out what had happened to the missing Seekers. It had been a mess, involving more red lyrium, an army of former Seekers looking to end the world, and a Lord Seeker who agreed with them. Add to that the demon who’d been impersonating the Lord Seeker- with his approval- and it was enough to exhaust anyone.

“I’m fine, Cullen. Just really tired. I think all of this running around is getting to me. You’d think I’d be used to it, since that’s how I grew up. But these last few weeks have really done me in. Maybe it’s the stress.”

“I imagine being seen as the only thing preventing an ancient magister from overthrowing the world would probably wear on you a bit. I’ll speak with Josephine, see if we can’t get some of these judgments and meetings pushed to a later hour. In the meantime, go and rest. I can survive without you for a few more hours.”

Sparrow nodded, dragging her way to the bedroom to lie down. Maker’s mercy, why on earth was she so damn tired? She’d been doing nothing out of the ordinary. Only the usual fighting and riding. It had never made her this tired before. Maybe it really was the stress. Sighing, she moved to get undressed. She’d barely removed her armor before collapsing on the bed, and then she was out.

By the time she woke up, the bright rays of the afternoon had given way to night’s inky black. Cullen sat beside her on the bed, stripped to his linens and reading a report. When he heard her moving, however, he put it to the side, leaning over to smooth her hair.

“I was wondering if you were going to wake before morning.”

“Sorry. I guess I was more tired than I realized.”

“It’s alright. I’m glad you got the chance to rest. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “Probably a bad idea to eat this late.”

He watched her moving around the room, looking for any sign of illness or injury as she readied for bed. When he saw none, he relaxed slightly, but he was still worried. It wasn’t like her to drag on like this, sleeping away the afternoon. Had they been working her too hard? She was always chasing some mission, either official Inquisition business or a favor for someone in Skyhold. Perhaps he ought to talk to everyone, see if they could go a bit easier on her for a while.

He got out of bed, taking off his tunic and moving behind her. Slipping his arms around her waist, he kissed her cheek gently. As she placed her hands over his, she turned to press her lips to his. Soon she’d turned around in his arms, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him passionately. 

“Oh, I missed you, Cullen.”

A smile crossed his lips. It was always wonderful to hear her say that, no matter how many times he heard it. At times it still seemed impossible that they were together, that he could have found such happiness amid this chaotic situation, during what otherwise might have been the darkest time of his life. 

“I missed you too. I always do when you’re gone.”

“Then why don’t we get in bed, and you can show me just how much?”

He grinned mischievously, then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as she gave a yelp. Once he’d tossed her to the bed, he crawled over her, smothering her with kisses that grew hotter the lower he moved. By the time he reached her hips, his teeth were nipping playfully against her skin, tongue tracing over the marks left behind. Her gasps and pants were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever heard, and the feel of her hands tugging his hair, guiding him where she wanted him, only made him want her more.

“If I show you exactly how much I miss you,” he growled as he pushed her tunic over her head, “I fear you might not recover.”

“Try me.”

Maker, did he know how to satisfy her. In less than five minutes, he had her a moaning, writhing mess beneath him. By the time it was over, she felt as if she were floating on a cloud of bliss. As she curled into his arms, she placed soft kisses across his chest, holding him tightly.

“Did I help you forget some of your worries, at least for a little while?” He asked, stroking the back of her head.

“Cullen, if you get any better in bed, I won’t even be able to remember my name.”

He laughed, curling his body around hers. Before long, her breathing had deepened into the soft, slow rhythm of sleep. As Cullen drifted off beside her, all he could think about was how lucky he was to have her, how grateful he was, and how devastating it would be to him if anything were to happen to her.

By the next morning, she seemed to have returned to her old self, dressing eagerly and attending to her duties. As usual, there was a long list of people who wanted to meet with her, requests that needed review, and letters she needed to help Josephine reply to. They were still waiting for word on what was going on at Adamant with the Wardens, and the ball wasn’t for another few weeks, so, hopefully, she’d have time to take it easy, regardless.

When Cullen saw her at lunch, he could see things weren’t as good as he’d hoped they were. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and she could barely sit upright. As she tilted forward, nearly falling asleep for the third time since he’d sat beside her, he traded a look with Josephine. They seemed to share the same concern, so, once Sparrow had headed off to discuss some of the reports they’d received with Leliana, Cullen pulled Josephine to the side.

“Has she been like that all morning?”

“No. Early this morning she seemed perfectly fine. It wasn’t until mid morning that she started to yawn uncontrollably. She nearly fell asleep in front of the representative from Crestwood! What is happening to her? You-“ Josephine hesitated, and he thought he knew what was coming. “You’re not keeping her awake through the night or handling her too roughly?”

“Maker no! Josephine, I’m as worried about this as you are. Yesterday she didn’t even wake up until well after dark, and then fell asleep again shortly after. She’s exhausted. Do you think we’re pushing her too hard?”

Josephine thought for a minute. “Well, she has been doing quite a bit of traveling lately, farther distances than she used to. But she insists on doing it! I’ve never asked her.”

“Perhaps we should take it upon ourselves to schedule things a bit less . . . stringently. Organize it so that she has to stay at Skyhold longer between trips.”

“I can certainly try. But if things do not improve, I insist we have a healer look at her.”

“You certainly have my support in that. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“In the meantime, Commander, I suggest you use your . . . influence . . . to get her to relax more. Have her visit the baths more often, spend some time in the gardens. Anything.”

“I’ll try, but she’ll be suspicious of me. You know how she is.”

Josephine laughed quietly. “I certainly do. You can hardly get the woman to sit down. Perhaps it’s all just finally catching up with her.”

Cullen had only moderate success in getting her to do anything remotely relaxing. The few times he got her to indulge in a long bath, she fell asleep, and he had to practically carry her out. Walking through the gardens made her more tired, so he tried just sitting with her, but she wanted Josephine to bring her correspondence to reply to, which defeated the purpose. Finally, Cullen got frustrated and snapped at her.

“I’m trying to help you rest and relax, could you please just cooperate? You’re falling asleep all of the time, and I’m worried about you!”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, leaning against his chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know I’ve been tired, and it’s causing more work for everyone else. I’m just trying to make up for it.”

She looked sad and defeated, and Cullen instantly regretted his harsh tones.

“You don’t have to make up for it.” He took her face in his hands. “We’re ALL worried for you. I know you’ve got a lot of responsibility piled on you, and I- WE- don’t want it to wear you down. None of us do. You are the Inquisitor,“ he said gently, “that means you are central to all of this. It also means that if you fall, so does everything else.”

“You’re not exactly helping me feel more at ease here, Cullen.”

He chuckled. “What I mean to say is that it’s most important that you remain healthy and well taken care of, because without you, the Inquisition means nothing.”

She looked down sadly, lips twisting as she bit against them. Carefully, he put his hand beneath her chin, tilting it up to get her to look into his eyes.

“If you cannot rest simply for your own sake, then will you do it for me? I don’t want to see you hurt, and I don’t want to lose you. You . . . .”

His breath caught in his chest as he looked down into those beautiful eyes. Andraste help him, he could get lost forever in them, lose himself completely. As if he weren’t already lost to her completely.

“You mean everything to me, Sparrow.”

She positively beamed up at him, making his heart flutter in his chest. In that moment, he knew he’d do anything for her, give up any and everything she asked of him. More than that, he knew she’d never ask any of it.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Fine. I will take breaks more often- on ONE condition. You have to take them with me. Whenever, and whatever you expect me to do to relax, you have to do it too.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Maker, you drive a hard bargain. Alright. So what now?”

“Now,” she said, dragging him toward their bedroom, “you are going to spend at least the next hour cuddling me.”

“Maker preserve me,” he exclaimed in mock aggravation. “How will I survive?”

She fell asleep against his chest in ten minutes, tucked between his legs with his arms curled tightly around her. That meant that he got to spend the rest of the time doing nothing but admire her, stroking her hair and whispering sweet words against the top of her head. It became routine, and soon, he didn’t even have to insist upon it. Anytime she began to feel tired or overwhelmed, she would seek him out and pull him to the nearest comfortable place. Maker’s breath, he loved it, the quiet time with her while the rest of the world continued onward. He’d have happily spent the rest of his life that way.

Mia wrote back to him, thoroughly excited at the prospect of meeting the woman who’d made him so happy. She said it was clear in the way he wrote about her that she meant a great deal to him, and that it didn’t matter at all if she was supposed to be the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor, or a handmaiden. All she wanted for him was happiness, and it was clear that’s what he’d found. Of COURSE the two of them were welcome to visit, anytime they liked, and, yes, she knew the Trevelyans. They were a good family, overall, though some disliked their commitment to equality in the Chantry. She, however, thought it was a breath of fresh air, something long needed. She closed the letter by begging him to promise to let her know the moment they became engaged- because she was certain that’s where this would end up.

“After all, if she’s put up with your belligerent mood swings and tendency to overreact for this long, she most certainly loves you.”

When Cullen received the letter, his eyes kept returning to the last line over and over again.

“She most certainly loves you.”

Why did that send a rippling thrill down his spine? Just those words, the idea that they brought? That it wasn’t just possible, but certain- she loved him?

He doubted Mia had meant it like that. Most likely it was just intended to be a subtle dig at him, the good-natured ribbing she was so fond of. But he couldn’t let go of it. Did Sparrow love him?

For that matter, did he love her?

That was a thought that terrified him. If he loved her . . . well, it was a lot to consider. To love someone meant making yourself permanently vulnerable. Opening yourself to the ebb and flow of their emotions as well as your own, to being a part of them, forever. He felt often enough like he wasn’t capable of dealing with his own feelings. 

But . . . the thought of being with her, for the rest of his life? Well, it seemed almost blasphemous to think anything else. He already felt as if her soul was a part of his, linked before they’d even met. Like the Maker had created them specifically for one another. Considering that he’d nearly been betrothed to her years ago, it wasn’t exactly out of the question. Fate often worked strangely, and the stranger it got, the more likely it was less than coincidence. 

But, love? Love was conscious, a choice. To love someone meant that, every day, you woke up determined to keep loving them, no matter what happened. That any problem that came along, you had already committed to fighting beside them, whatever that meant, and that you would never, ever pit yourself against them. Love meant being a single unit, one that just happened to be comprised of two separate individuals, who respected each other, always.

Some days he could barely respect himself. Those days were far fewer, now that she’d come into his life. She had a way of seeing the best of him, even when he couldn’t see it for himself. And she had a habit of bringing it out for others, too. If he’d been a different person, with a different past, it would have been easy for him to say he loved her. She certainly deserved it. But he wasn’t sure it was fair to her, with him being who he was.

This was something that deserved careful consideration.


	21. The Expectations of the Oasis

“I hate this place.”

“C’mon, boss, it’s not that bad. At least we’re camping in the shade near the water instead of out there in the sun.”

“I don’t care Bull,” Sparrow frowned, “I hate it. It’s too hot. It makes me feel nauseous.”

“Yeah, well, we could tell that from the way you spent an hour hunched over in the corner, gagging,” Sera quipped. “Just how’d you keep on on that long? You hardly ate anything.”

“Fuck if I know. I’ll just be glad when we find the rest of the shards here, and get into those last few doors.”

“Yeah . . . then you can get back to smooching it up with your sweet Cully-wully!”

Sparrow growled at Sera, then ran to the side to gag again. Varric shook his head.

“Andraste’s ass- if we don’t hurry up and get her back to Skyhold, there won’t be anything left of her for Curly.”

Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, Sparrow returned to the group.

“How many shards left?”

“Three,” grumbled Bull. “All of them up there.” He pointed to the highest peak above them.

“Well, that’s great. Last time, the Inquisitor nearly passed out. She almost pulled me over with her, too.” Varric looked over at Sparrow. “You could have told me you had a fear of heights, you know.”

“I don’t. Not usually. I just got dizzy. Anyway, let’s get to sleep. If we’re lucky, we can finish tomorrow, and head home.”

In the end, it took three more days to get the shards, and another to get the last doors open. When she’d finally gotten the last wisps of resiliency instilled in her, Sparrow napped for almost an entire day. Clearly, the entire event had worn on her a great deal. By the time they left, between the exhaustion and vomiting, Sparrow looked like a shadow of her former self.

Cullen noticed right away, sharing worried glances with the others as he helped her down from her mount. He didn’t speak a word as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the baths. He helped her undress, slipping her into a bath and washing her as she rested against the back of the tub. His mouth was pulled in a tight line as he considered her state. Finally, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard again.”

She rolled her head to the side to look at him. “I haven’t, I swear. I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary.”

“Then you’re not resting when you need to.”

“I stopped whenever I felt tired. The whole trip took twice as long as it should have, I rested so much!”

He stopped, his face softening as he cupped her cheek. “I just worry for you. You look absolutely miserable, like you can barely breathe without tiring.”

“I kinda feel like that, too.” She managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I’m getting tired so easy. I know the heat in the Forbidden Oasis didn’t help me feel any better. I don’t think I’m meant for hot weather.”

“Well, all of this did start after you went to the Western Approach. Perhaps that does have something to do with it.” He kissed her forehead. “Just promise me that if you don’t feel better soon, you’ll speak to a healer?”

She nodded, resting against the back of the tub again while Cullen stroked her hair. To say he was worried was an understatement. In his head, a hundred ways things could go wrong swirled around, a thousand ways she could be taken from him. He hoped it was only her body reacting poorly to the desert climates, but, if the truth were told, he’d have preferred her to go ahead and see the healer. At least then he might know something.

He forced her to take to her bed for the rest of the day, while he went around asking everyone if they’d noticed anything unusual about her lately, or if it were possible for her exhaustion to be caused by the heat. Most of the information he got was what he’d already seen. Bull did tell him that sometimes dragon venom could cause the sort of illness that he’d seen, but he also assured him that she’d never come into contact with any, and he’d been very careful to watch.

“Come on, Cullen. Give her a few days off, and she’ll be good as new. I’ve never seen anyone more resilient. Of course, I’ve never seen anyone throw up as much as she did in the Oasis, either.”

“Thank you, Bull. That isn’t exactly reassuring.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He’d even been to see Solas, to find out if it was maybe the mark having an effect on her in some way, but it wasn’t that, either. By the time he brought her up some food that evening, Cullen thought he’d never been more confused in his life. No one had any suggestions, or had given him any new information. All he wanted was for her to feel better.

He found her leaning over the edge of the bed, gagging into a large ceramic bowl.

“I’ve brought you some food, but perhaps it was a bad idea.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m starving. Besides, I’d almost rather just vomit than keep heaving this way. At least that would be productive.”

“It’s not much,” he said, sitting the tray on the nightstand. “Just some broth and bread. I know I prefer things simple when I’m not feeling well.”

“Sounds perfect.”

She sat to work eating, apparently voracious despite the nausea. When she was done, she flopped back against the bed. 

“Maker, I hope that stays down. It’s been ages since I ate a meal that didn’t come right back up.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled at him. “Besides be yourself? No.” She curled around his hip as he sat beside her in bed. “Andraste, I missed you. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. You know, at one point, I seriously considered asking Sera to put on your shirt and cuddle with me? But it wouldn’t have been the same.”

“I should say not,” he replied with a laugh. “But I missed you too.”

“Can you quit early today? Spend the evening here, with me?”

He kissed her forehead. “Of course. Give me a few minutes.”

He returned to find her completely naked, her body splayed out across the bed. She’d posed herself to be intentionally inviting, and, despite the worry at the back of his mind, he found himself growing quickly aroused.

Lifting an eyebrow, he spoke. “I didn’t think that this was what you had in mind when you asked me to stay.”

“Honestly, I didn’t either. But I just kept thinking about you, and how I missed you, and I just got so wet . . . like I just NEEDED you.”

“Well, I’m certainly happy to oblige. But are you sure you feel well enough?”

“Come see for yourself.”

She gave him a lascivious look as he crossed the room to sit beside her, licking her lips. The first thing she did was pull off his gloves- with her teeth, a sight that sent blood rushing straight to his groin. Then she took the hand closest to her, moving it down between her thighs, and he gasped.

“By the breath of Andraste . . . Sparrow, you’re positively soaking, already swollen and full. I don’t think you’ve ever been like this before.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I want you so much I can hardly stand it. I’m ACHING for you, Cullen. If I don’t get to fuck you soon, I think I might explode.”

As if to accentuate her desire, she started rubbing her thighs together, moaning softly as her hands began to roam his body. She looked like pure sin, like heavenly bliss, biting her full lips and staring at him the way she was. Cullen didn’t think he’d ever removed his armor so fast. His mouth found hers, kissing her hungrily as she wrapped her leg around his hip.

“I want to taste you. I want to kiss that perfect cunt, lap up all of your desire.”

She changed positions, rolling him to his back. He was about to ask her what she was doing when she grasped the headboard, throwing one leg over his body and maneuvering herself until she was straddling his face. Eagerly, he grasped her hips, nestling himself happily between her thighs. Never before had he been so fully enveloped in her- her taste, her smell, the slick wetness of her arousal- and he adored it. Especially as he lapped against her, bringing her to the edge of her orgasm, and she began grinding against his face. He could scarcely breathe, but the rising sound of her pleasured cries was far more than worth it.

She screamed as she came, a deep, guttural sound that was animalistic in nature, and then threw herself between his legs. As soon as his cock was in her mouth, she sucked hungrily, both hands working along in rhythm. She was always phenomenal with her mouth, but there was something about this time that was so much more feral and unrestrained. He barely recognized the sounds he made as human, it felt so incredible. And then she started riding him.

At that point, he wasn’t even sure he was making sounds anymore. He wasn’t sure of anything, except that he never wanted her to stop. If the entire Inquisition had gathered to watch her bouncing and grinding on him, he doubted he’d even notice, much less care. She had him hilted deeper inside of her than he’d ever been before, and seemed dead set on finding some way to take more of him in. Her thighs held him tightly, even as his fingers dug deep into her flesh, and, sweet Maker, the look on her face was priceless. He’d have given anything to be able to capture that pure, shameless bliss as she rode her pleasure out on him, eyes closed and mouth hanging open. When he came, she clenched around him as tightly as she could, milking him for every drop, until he was so sensitive he yelped in pain at the slightest movement.

Afterward, he lay panting beside her.

“Maker’s breath! That was . . . .”

“Yes it was,” she sighed.

Both of them slept in the following morning, unbothered. Likely because all of Skyhold had heard them, and didn’t want to take a chance on walking in, since the balcony doors had been left open. Still, it was an unexpected pleasantry, and they took advantage of it by curling together as long as they could. Sparrow seemed to feel a good deal better, but Cullen still reminded her to take it as easy as she could.

Taking it easy turned out to be, well, easy. Josephine had apparently put a hold on all judgments and meetings, and had limited correspondence to an hour at a time, taking place strictly in Sparrow’s quarters. Cullen checked on her often, and if he found her doing anything but resting, he forced her back into bed. Eventually, he had her friends doing rotations to “keep her company”, but she suspected it was more likely they were supposed to keep her in bed.

Finally, boredom got the better of her, and she headed out for a walk, despite Josephine’s objections. Cassandra, who’d been sitting with her at the time, hadn’t really cared. She cautioned her to be careful, but had already told Sparrow that she thought Cullen was being far too overprotective. She was pretty sure she’d heard the two of them arguing about it one afternoon, with Cassandra telling Cullen to stop treating her like a child.

Unfortunately, Cullen happened to be crossing the courtyard as she stepped out, and he rushed to her side. She held up a hand before he could even say a word.

“I know, I should be resting. But, Cullen, I feel fine. Still a little tired, but I’m bored out of my mind! Surely I can be allowed to take a walk outside. Besides, the fresh air will do me good.”

She started walking without giving him a chance to respond, and he rushed to catch up, stuttering.

“You can’t just walk around alone! Not after being so tired.”

“Then come with me.” She paused to turn to him. “Cullen, you’re being a bit ridiculous. I appreciate the concern, and I know I needed to rest, but I can’t lay around all of the time.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “But only a short walk for today, please?”

She smiled and they crossed the courtyard together, climbing the stairs to walk the ramparts. Sparrow was surprised to find that by the time she reached the top, she was a bit winded. When he saw her panting, Cullen frowned.

“I think perhaps you ought to go rest now.”

“No. That was the worst. It won’t do me any good to run straight back down them. Just give me a minute.”

She could tell he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, and soon she was walking again.

“See? I’m okay.”

He didn’t look convinced, but she strode along anyway, Cullen watching her out of the corner of his eye. A few minutes later, she began to wilt slightly, her shoulders drooping.

“I think you’d best rest now. Please don’t make me insist.”

She nodded, and they began down the staircase at the opposite end of the ramparts. About halfway down, Cullen noticed she began to look a little wobbly, like she couldn’t quite stand upright. He moved forward, about to question her, when suddenly she began to fall. It was only luck that put him in the position to catch her, lifting her off her feet. When he looked down at her, her eyes were closed and her head hung limply to the side.

Cullen moved away quickly as he could, calling for a healer as he carried Sparrow to their room.

Some time later, she woke stretched out on the bed, with Cullen sitting beside her. She had no idea how she’d gotten there, or why Cullen had his head in his hands. The last thing she remembered was heading down the stairs. She’d felt a little dizzy, and stopped to lean against the rail. Then nothing, until now.

Slowly, Cullen raised his head. For a long time, he just stared at her, saying nothing, as if the capability of speech had left him. She frowned.

“Cullen? What’s wrong? What happened?”

He only shook his head, then let it hang, staring at his folded hands. When he spoke, it was quiet, barely audible, and he sounded hurt beyond measure.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”


	22. The Element of Surprise

“Tell you what, exactly?”

Cullen frowned hard, giving her a dirty look.

“You know perfectly well what.”

He stood, crossing the room to stare out of the balcony. Sparrow, still slightly dizzy, got out of bed to stand behind him. 

“Uhm, no, Cullen. I don’t ‘know perfectly well’ what. Would you enlighten me?”

He rounded on her, throwing his hands in the air. “Maker . . . There’s no possible way you couldn’t know. Stop fooling around. I’m not a complete idiot, you know!”

“Well obviously ONE of us is BECAUSE I HAVEN’T GOT A FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

“That . . . that you’re . . . we . . . .”

At that moment, she was actually afraid Cullen might be the one to pass out. Taking his hand, she lead him to the couch, sitting beside him. When both of their hands were clasped together, she looked up at him.

“Please calm down and just tell me what’s going on, Cullen.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you didn’t know you were pregnant.”

She leapt to her feet, and this time it was her that rounded on him.

“I’M WHAT?”

“You really didn’t know?”

“If I knew, why would I keep it from you?” She sat back down beside him. “Are you sure? Maybe there was a mistake.”

“No. We had Mother Giselle come look at you. Exhaustion? Vomiting? She knew before she touched you. She . . . felt you, across your stomach, beneath your shirt. There’s no doubt. Around three months along.”

“This was certainly not the news I expected.”

“Nor I.”

There was a long pause, during which Sparrow looked down at her stomach. She was the Herald, the Inquisitor. The one with the mark, who healed the sky. The one who was supposed to stop Corypheus. And there was a child, growing inside of her.

“As Varric would say . . . well, shit.” She took Cullen’s face in her hand. “You know it’s yours, right?”

He laughed in spite of himself. “I’d suspected, yes. Considering.”

“Well . . . how do you feel about it?”

“How do you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to pass it all to me. I KNOW how I feel about it. I asked how YOU felt. Maybe it’s not fair, but I asked you first, so you have to answer the question first! So . . . just, stop. Don’t think about Skyhold, or the Inquisition, or Corypheus, or anything else. Just this, this news, THIS.” She put his hand against her stomach. “Think about it, and tell me how you feel. Is this something you want?”

He looked at her, pain in his eyes. “How could you even ask me that?” His hand moved, cupping her stomach. “Of course I want this. You are growing something inside of you that is part of me and part of you, connecting us together. How could I not want that?”

She threw her arms around him, tears spilling as she kissed him over and over.

“What about you?” He asked. “How do you feel? I don’t want you to think I expect you to do something just because it pleases me.”

“Cullen, I want this. Sweet Maker, I want it. I’m terrified, because I know what I have to go through, but I want this just as much as I want you. Thinking of our child, the ways that it might look like you or me, the life that we might have together . . . it thrills me beyond belief.”

He pulled her into his lap, cupping the back of her head and kissing her deeply.

“So . . . who knows?” She asked him. 

“Mother Giselle spoke to me privately. She told everyone else there was nothing to be concerned about, that you were fine, you only needed rest. When she told me, I must have asked her if she was certain at least twenty times. I could hardly believe it.”

“I wish I could have seen.”

“Me too. Although I have to admit, it isn’t often the father gets to break the news to the mother that she’s pregnant.” He sat up, suddenly sober. “Maker’s breath . . . I’m going to be a father.”

She tangled her fingers in his hair. “Yes . . . you are.”

He sighed happily into her chest, holding her close. After a few moments, she got up and crossed to stand in front of the mirror. Carefully, she lifted her tunic and tugged down the front of her leggings. Her hand smoothed back and forth a few times as she looked on. There was definitely a small bump there. And she hadn’t had her monthly in a while, that was true enough. She’d assumed it was just stress. In retrospect, that had been pretty stupid. It wasn’t like she and Cullen had been TRYING to get pregnant, but they hadn’t exactly been avoiding it, either. She should have guessed before now. 

Cullen stepped up behind her, placing his hands on top of hers. He couldn’t stop gazing at Sparrow, hardly believe that this wonderful creature was going to carry his child. As if she’d heard his thoughts, she turned to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Cullen, I’m so proud that I get to bear your child.”

He was about to respond when he heard a gasp. Apparently Cassandra had been coming to check on them, to see if Sparrow was awake, and she’d overheard. She pushed her way over two the two of them, practically jamming her finger in Cullen’s face.

“Is this true?” 

As Sparrow buried her face in his chest, trying to hide her laughter, he nodded. A broad smile stretched across his face as Cassandra stumbled back with another gasp.

“By the Maker . . . that’s wonderful!”

“I’m glad you agree. But, Cassandra? Please don’t tell anyone else?”

“Of course.” She hugged each of them. “Truly, I am happy for you.”

As Cassandra disappeared below the railing, Cullen sighed.

“I suppose we ought to let everyone know as soon as possible. I know Cassandra said she’d keep our secret, but I know her. You stumble walking across the courtyard one day, and she’ll be gasping about the baby.”

As they undressed for bed that night, Sparrow noticed Cullen glancing over to her stomach again and again. Finally, she walked over to him, tossing her shirt aside. He sat at nearly eye level with her stomach, staring at it. Tentatively, he reached up.

“Is it alright . . . ?”

“Of course it is, Cullen!”

She took his hand, placing it against the gentle curve. As he traced over it, cupping his fingers around it, he gasped quietly. Then he pressed his face against it, kissing along the edge of her pelvic bone. Her hands laced through his hair as he rested his cheek to her stomach.

“It’s real. This is real.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It is. You and I did this, together. We created a child, and it will grow inside of me. Then, it’ll be born, and we will raise it, together. Us. We . . ,” she began to choke up a little. “We’ll be a family, Cullen. The three of us. We already are.”

“I cannot imagine anyone I’d rather have that with. I will defend you, and our child, with my life, I promise you. I will never let anything happen to either of you. You’re my life now, my future. And I’m so very glad.”

They crawled into bed together, and he cradled her, tenderly, as if he thought she might break. She could almost feel the happiness and contentment flowing out of him, like a never ending current, and she was glad to be a part of it. Considering what he’d been through, he deserved all the happiness he could get, in her opinion. Suddenly a thought occurred to her.

“Are you going to write to your sister?”

He considered it for a moment. “I suppose so, if Leliana says it’s alright. I should warn you though, she’s almost certain to insist she come to Skyhold to take charge of you. She certainly does her best to try and mother ME.”

“Do you think she’ll be happy?”

“I think she’ll be thrilled, although I’m certain she’ll admonish me for not marrying you immediately.” He looked down at her. “I . . . Maker’s breath, I hadn’t even considered that. It might not exactly look proper for the Herald of Andraste and leader of the Inquisition to be unwed and have a child. Especially with the Commander of her forces.”

“I couldn’t care less about propriety,” she sighed. “If we marry, it should be out of a genuine desire to do so, not just because we’re having a child together. I don’t need some ceremony to commit to spending the rest of my life with you. And I don’t want a rushed wedding just so it looks better to others. I’m with you. My soul was tied to yours a long time before we met. I knew it almost as soon as I met you, and I’m certain of it now more than ever. That’s all I need.”


	23. Announcing . . . .

Sparrow had asked to be the one to tell Blackwall, privately. Given their history, Cullen felt he couldn’t possibly refuse, nor did he want to. It was right that he should know first, and be told by her and her alone. Still, she was nervous as she entered the stables Blackwall called home. When she didn’t see him at his workbench, she called out to him, and he answered her from the loft.

She took the stairs slowly and cautiously, more out of a desire to prolong the climb than worry she would fall. Eventually, though, she still came to the top, and found herself face to face with the man who had once been her lover.

“What can I do for you, my lady Inquisitor?”

She rolled her eyes. “Start by calling me Sparrow.”

“As you like.”

“Don’t be cold. Remember that it was you who chose to end things.”

“Aye. And I was right to do it. I don’t expect you to understand that. Nor do I expect your forgiveness.”

“You’ve done nothing that needs forgiveness. You were right. Even I knew that.” She folded her hands in front of her stomach. “I’ve come because I have news.”

He stopped fiddling around in his things to look at her, then gestured for her to sit beside him on the hay bale he made his bed.

“What news?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He wiped the momentary shock from his face, then stared quietly ahead.

“Commander Cullen’s, I presume.”

“Of course.”

“How has he taken the news?”

“Enthusiastically, when he’s not shocked from the suddenness. He found out before I did. The day I fainted.”

“I knew from Mother Giselle’s smile there was more to it than needing rest. Especially when she asked to speak with Cullen.”

“He did wonder why I hadn’t told him.”

Blackwall let out a small huff of laughter. “Fool. He ought to know you’d never keep something like that from him.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“I am happy for you. Cullen’s a good man. As I said, a far better partner for you than I.”

“You were a fine partner, and you’re a good man, too.”

She kissed his cheek, then began to head down the stairs. At the sound of him calling her name,she stopped.

“I trust that the two of you will have need of a cradle?”

“You’re the first person we told, and we only found out yesterday, so, yes, we’ll need one.”

“I’d like to make you one. As an apology, for not being the man I should have been for you.”

She smiled. “I would like that. But I’ll only accept it as a gift from one of our child’s many aunts and uncles, not as an apology.”

“Fair enough.”

He returned her smile, then watched as she headed out of the stables, probably to tell the next lucky aunt or uncle.

As it turned out, Cole already knew, much as they’d expected, and Solas had “essentially figured it out”, as well. Sera was excited to corrupt them- kindly, of course, but it still made Cullen nervous. When they told Bull, he wasn’t entirely sure why or how it affected him, but Krem was incredibly sweet and offered to explain it to him. Then, they went to see Varric. Initially he laughed.

“Yeah. Good one.”

Cullen and Sparrow shared a smirking glance.

“Wait- you’re serious? Holy shit.” He laughed maniacally before slapping Cullen on the shoulder. “Well, well, Curly. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Cullen drew back slightly. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Varric cleared his throat. “Nothing. It’s just that I always took you to be very responsible and planned out, not the kind to take risks.”

Sparrow could sense the impending argument, so she rushed Cullen away to tell Leliana and Josephine, both of whom gasped in delight. 

“You are not!”

“Afraid so, Josephine. Ask Mother Giselle if you don’t believe me.”

“That’s wonderful!” 

She drew Sparrow into a tight hug, then did the same to a sheepishly grinning Cullen. Leliana offered them both hearty congratulations, and subtly threatened to break the Commander’s legs if he put Sparrow in any danger. As they left to go tell Dorian and Vivienne, Josephine began making furious lists of all of the things that needed doing.

As Sparrow had expected, Dorian was over the moon about his new little cousin, with plenty of teasing and jabs toward Cullen. His first suggestion was that they name it after him, which Cullen promptly refused. After some more teasing and light conversation, as they were ready to head to Vivienne, he stopped them.

“You know, I am happy for the two of you, despite my teasing. You make a wonderful couple, and I know any child of yours will not only be stunningly gorgeous, they’ll have the luck of having the most amazing parents in the world.”

Sparrow thanked him, giving him a hug that he brushed off as an “unnecessary show of affection”, despite smiling broadly. Then he showed them out the door towards Vivienne. They hardly had time to say anything, since she’d apparently overheard their conversation with Varric, as well as snippets from the one with Dorian. 

At first, she pushed Sparrow lightly to the side, looking critically down her nose at Cullen. After a few moments of cold regard, she spoke.

“Commander Cullen, are you devoid of all intelligence?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have impregnated the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste! Do you not understand what that means? How this will look?”

Sparrow interrupted. “Vivienne, I hardly think-“

“Quiet, darling. The Commander and I are speaking.” 

She turned towards Cullen again. 

“The Inquisition, and by extension, the Inquisitor, has a reputation to uphold. We are to appear the very model of propriety, an example for all others. To have our Herald unwed and pregnant-“

“Vivienne, that’s enough.” Sparrow frowned. “I’m just as responsible for this as Cullen, and I won’t let you take it out on him. Proper or not, I AM pregnant, and, at this moment, I have no intention of marrying Cullen. I also don’t intend to let this news travel across Thedas.”

Vivienne put a kind hand on her shoulder. “Intention or not, this news WILL get out sooner or later. I’m just looking out for you, and for the Inquisition as well.”

“We’ll meet with everyone later, to discuss how best to handle this. There are plenty of reasons I don’t want this spread, but I’m aware we can’t keep it secret forever. But, Vivienne, I’m incredibly happy about this. Please don’t take that from me.”

Her face softened, and she brushed Sparrow’s cheek with one hand.

“My apologies, darling. That was never my intention. If you’re happy about this, then I don’t intend to ruin it. And, if you wish to keep it hidden, we’ll make an appointment with my seamstress in Val Royeaux. The woman can work miracles with a needle and thread. I’m certain she can come up with some designs that will help to hide your growing form without looking uncharacteristic.” She turned to Cullen. “And Commander, I apologize to you as well. I’m afraid I let my concern get the better of me, and I will try not to do so in the future. The two of you are lucky to have each other, and your little one will be equally lucky to have you as parents.”

As Cullen took Sparrow’s arm, walking back down the stairs, she heard him murmuring softly to himself.

“Our little one . . . we’re going to have a little one.”

For days afterward, he did that. They would be walking together, or laying in bed, and suddenly his hand would be on her stomach, rubbing gentle circles, and he’d smile at her, whispering to himself about their child. He often went out of his way to check on her, insuring that she ate properly and got enough rest. If she felt the slightest bit out of sorts, he turned training over to someone else for the day, doting on her ceaselessly. 

“Cullen, you’re going to make me absolutely spoiled,” she said to him one night, as they lay in bed.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yes! Mother Giselle said that the dizziness and nausea should be over soon, and I have work to do. We still have the Winter Ball to attend, and I have to make sure my dress will actually fit. You can’t keep me laying around here, tending to my every need.”

He frowned playfully. “I want to. I’ve never had a child before- I’m afraid I’ll miss something.”

“You won’t miss anything. It’s at least two months before you could even feel it moving, all I’ll do is get fat.”

“I’ll miss that!”

“Listen, I’m going to have to stay around Skyhold for the last stretch, anyway. It’s less than six months away. I PROMISE you, I’ll let you take care of me as you like. You can take off all you want and stay right by my side.”

“All right . . . I suppose I can live with that. But I’m coming with you to Val Royeaux.” He kissed the tip of her nose, making her laugh.

“Have you written your sister?”

“Yes. I expect to hear from her any day with admonishments and advice. Possibly even insistence she come to a Skyhold to help.”

“What did you say?”

“I had to admit to her that we’d been together a bit longer than I’d initially lead her to believe. Then I had to find a tactful way to imply that we’d been intimate on more than one occasion. Eventually I just settled on ‘much to our delight, and I hope yours, Sparrow and I are expecting a child in the coming months’. Then I told her that, by your choice, we were not yet married, and wouldn’t be until sometime later, when you weren’t dealing with so much at once. I had to assure her that I HAD, in fact, brought the idea up to you, so she didn’t accuse me of being callous.” He smiled at her. “What about you? Have you told your family?”

She laughed into his chest. “Yes. I said ‘as I’m sure you all expected, Cullen and I have gotten together. What I’m sure you didn’t expect was to hear that we are going to be parents in around six months. Please don’t ask if we’re getting married. Love, Sparrow’. They’re going to show up, I just know it. Em will probably try to redecorate the whole castle to fit the baby, and father and Markus will certainly want to take you for a ‘boys night’ to celebrate.”

“I have no interest. Can I politely refuse?”

“I’ll tell them I need you nearby, in case I feel ill.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed her sweetly, rubbing her belly again, and they curled together to go to sleep.

Three days later, Sparrow received a letter addressed to her in strange handwriting. As she began to open it, Cullen glanced at it and groaned.

“Oh no. Mia’s written you.”

As Sparrow read the letter, she began giggling. By the time she’d reached the end, she was nearly doubled over in laughter. She held the letter out to Cullen, who snatched it away and began reading.

“I do not get dizzy at the thought of pain! And I certainly don’t faint at the sight of blood! Honestly, she’s acting as if I’m still three.”

“Don’t forget that I’m to watch singing lullabies, because you might fall asleep too. Or that I’ll have to stand near you afterwards, because babies make you nervous.”

“Actually, that last one might be a bit true.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re just so small, I don’t want to hurt them.”

“Well, let’s focus on the last part of her letter then.”

He skimmed the rest of the letter, reading the bottom part aloud.

“While I may not agree with the decision to hold off on marriage, I am thrilled to hear that my dear brother will soon become a father. I wish you both the best of luck and the happiest of times, and hope beyond hope that I will soon see the three of you, and meet my new niece or nephew.”

Cullen’s face softened into a grin. He carefully pulled Sparrow to his chest, pressing his forehead to hers for just a moment before cupping the back of her head and kissing her deeply and passionately. Her hands gripped his cloak tightly as she felt herself sway in his grip, overcome with emotion. When the kiss ended, he cupped her cheek tenderly.

“Every time I hear something like that, it thrills me. I still can hardly believe it’s real. I can barely believe that I’m with you half the time. And now, all of this . . . it’s more than I ever thought I would have. I’m so grateful. I hope you know that.”

“Of course I do, Cullen! I feel exactly the same.”

Over the next few weeks, as they prepared for the ball, everyone within the inner circle of the Inquisition found their own ways of supporting the two. Blackwall drew Cullen into frequent conversations about the cradle he was making, asking his opinion of the design. Sera brought Sparrow little things she found or made that she thought the baby might like, and Josephine nearly made Cullen cry when she presented him with the child’s first outfit. Cassandra gave stacks of storybooks. Leliana offered babysitting anytime they needed it, while Bull and Varric said they were waiting a bit to offer their gifts, though Krem gave Sparrow a small toy.

When Sparrow received a letter from her family, it was full of exclamation points, and thus probably written by Emmelin. They were all excited, of course, and did want to visit, although they agreed it would be better to wait until later, closer to the birth. The thought made Sparrow more than a little nervous. The last thing she wanted was to have her mother and sister shouting instructions at her while giving birth.

“I’d never let that happen. You tell me what you want, what you need, and I’ll make sure that it happens.”

“See?” She grinned. “You spoil me!”

He kissed her once again. “Fine. And I do so quite happily. I will give you anything and everything that your heart desires, no matter the cost. You need only ask.”

“Bring me some cherries and you’re my hero.”

He stopped to give her a dramatic bow. “On your order, my lady Inquisitor.” Then, with a quick wink, he was gone.


	24. The Dance of Dreams

“Oh, sweet Maker, Cullen, this dress is going to kill me,” Sparrow whispered as she rested her forehead against Cullen’s shoulder. “I feel as if I can’t breathe.”

“I told you you ought to have it let out more.”

“Well how was I to know there would be a . . . a growth spurt!“

“If there’d been much more of one, you’d have had to wear something else entirely,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. For a moment, just before they exited, he placed his hand on the curve of her stomach, rubbing it gently. “Please be careful out there. I know you cannot avoid danger entirely, but . . . .”

Kissing the corner of his mouth, she replied, “I’ll take care of us, Cullen. I promise.”

“Just so you know, I’ve extracted the same promises from Bull, and Sera, and Vivienne.”

He squeezed her waist, then escorted her out, as he was expected to do, before they parted. Though they’d agreed not to spend much time interacting, out of the fear of gossip, Cullen couldn’t help but stare at her. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen, in a sparkling silver gown that resembled soft broken glass, with just the right amount of sheerness. He noted that, even from a distance, there was a small curve below her waist, barely there, but visible, and it made him feel slight giddy, even as nobles tried to speak with him. She made conversation like she’d been born to it, gliding through the crowd and impressing everyone she passed.

When she made her grand entrance, it was on Gaspard’s arm, and Cullen felt himself grow unreasonably jealous. He’d known from the beginning that would be the case, but it didn’t help the dark storm in his heart as he watched the two of them walk towards the Empress together. His main source of comfort was the reminder that it was not Gaspard’s child growing inside of her, and it was not Gaspard who would have the privilege of removing that dress tonight. And that was something he was very much looking forward to.

After a few minutes of polite conversation with the Empress, Sparrow met with Leliana while Cullen took his place in the Ballroom to stand watch. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for a rather large crowd to gather around him. Women and men alike pushed forward, complimenting his eyes, his hair, any and everything. Despite how short he tried to be, they just kept pressing in on him. To make matters worse, he couldn’t see Sparrow anywhere, making him tremendously nervous. He was just about to excuse himself to search for her when the crowd parted, and there she was.

The silver of her dress caught the light, it’s sharp edges coupling with the stern look on her face to give her the appearance of an avenging angel, meant to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies. It was no wonder the nobles had stepped out of her way. If he hadn’t known her so well, his own blood would have ran cold.

“Cullen, who exactly are these people? You’ve drawn a crowd.”

“Maker’s blood, I have no idea, but they will NOT leave me alone!”

One brave soul pushed through the crowd once more to stand beside Cullen, drawing daggers from Sparrow’s gaze. 

“Tell me, Commander . . . are you married?”

Cullen’s eyes darted nervously towards Sparrow, who’s eyes were wide with false innocence and curiosity. Andraste preserve him, he just knew this was some sort of trap. If he said no, then he was leaving the door open to further advances, and she certainly wouldn’t take kindly to that. Yet he couldn’t say that he was, exactly, because, well, he wasn’t. Finally, he settled on an answer somewhere in the middle.

“Not at present, no . . . but I am already spoken for.”

“So . . . still single then.”

The man looked around smugly, sidling closer to Cullen as the others resumed their questions. For a few moments, Sparrow watched in mild amusement, until Cullen jumped forward with a yelp.

“Did you just grab my bottom?”

The same man giggled victoriously. “I’m a weak man.”

While Cullen tried to fend off further advances, Sparrow’s calm broke. In her most stern, commanding tone, she called to him.

“Commander Cullen! If I might speak with you . . . in PRIVATE?”

He excused himself, following her as she stomped through the doors and out into the Vestibule. She paused for only a moment before heading down the stairs, and then through a series of winding hallways, until they were alone in silence. Immediately, one hand found the back of his head, pulling him down into a lustful kiss, while the other slipped beneath his jacket to cup his ass firmly. As she pulled away from the kiss, her other hand cupped him as well, squeezing hard.

“Cullen,” she whispered, “I can’t STAND to see them drooling over you like that. This,” she squeezed again, “is all mine.”

Chuckling softly, he took her face in his hands.

“Always. Only yours. I promise.”

She hummed her approval, kissing him again, this time nipping at his bottom lip.

“Do you think we have the time . . . ?”

“For what?”

Her eyebrow raised as she slid her hand down the front of his trousers, smiling at the stuttered gasp it drew.

“Sweet Andraste, Sparrow, are you serious?”

She let loose a dark, velvet chuckle, full of mischief, that had him rapidly hardening beneath her palm. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he grabbed hold of her wrist, moving it away from his trousers and kissing her palm.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like more. The idea of taking you here, now, amongst all these nobles and their propriety . . . ?” He moaned softly in her ear, sending chills of lust down her spine. “It’s beyond tempting. But we have work to do, and I won’t risk that. Once that’s done, however . . . .”

He slid his hands down her back, cupping her ass for a moment before turning her around roughly. As he pressed his hard length against her, his hands traced over her breasts, one moving down to press firmly between her legs. Her hips moved forward, rocking, pushing back as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. Suddenly he pulled away, the loss of his touch leaving her gasping for more.

She turned, shooting him a hard glare.

“I hope you plan on making that up to me. Otherwise, we are going to have a very . . . big . . . problem.”

“That,” he whispered darkly, his hands on her hips, “will be child’s play compared to what I will do to you when this is all over. I will have you on your knees, my hands in your hair and my cock so far down your throat you won’t be able to speak for at least the next three days. I will paint that lovely ass of yours bright red with smacks, and I will fill your cunt so tight with my spending that it will positively drip from you, running down your legs to pool on the floor.”

She shuddered against him, her pulse racing and arousal dripping down her thighs from the mere thought of his words becoming reality.

“If you do not fulfill your promises, Commander Cullen Rutherford, I will have you flogged mercilessly.”

She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I shouldn’t mind, as long as it’s you doing the flogging. Provided we are both naked, of course.”

“Careful of your words, Commander,” she admonished. “I may hold you to them.”

With a wicked grin, he returned to his station to await orders of a more professional nature. Though he soon found himself surrounded once again, he could hardly be bothered to care. His mind was almost entirely occupied with Sparrow, and the things he desperately wanted to do to her when this event was over.

Unfortunately, the evening ran far longer than expected, which does tend to happen when one of the Empress’ closest associates turns out to be the one intending to assassinate her. Each time she disappeared from the party, Cullen prayed that Sparrow would be alright, that her friends would protect her just as they’d promised him. After all, they knew that there was more than her life at stake- as if that alone weren’t enough. Yet each time she returned, she looked more worn, a frayed look about her that went beyond her physical injuries. 

When she gathered the advisors together after she’d discovered the extent of Florianne’s plan, it was all Cullen could do to remain the indifferent Commander he was supposed to be. The sight of dark bruises on her skin, her blood spilled across the armor she hadn’t bothered to change out of, sent him into an absolute fury. His darkest impulses demanded that he behead Florianne that instant, or drag her and her co-conspirators to the center of the room for the most vile torture imaginable.

It was only the look on Sparrow’s face that stopped him. For the first time, he truly understood that she had a place within her that was as dark as the one inside of him, and how very, very lucky the world was that she was so adept at keeping it locked away. It made the scene at the war table, when they’d first met and she’d thrown a fireball at him, look like absolute innocence. This time there were no dancing flames on her skin, no hair standing on end- nothing externally that gave her anger away. It was entirely under her control, a rippling tension inside of her held by a lone tether, and aimed entirely at Florianne.

Watching their confrontation was like watching an insect spit into a bonfire. Florianne stood no chance. Despite her supposed mastery of “The Game”, Sparrow had outplayed her at every turn. Not only that, but she had done the same to each of the powers vying for the rule of Orlais. Celene, Briala, Gaspard- each of them had believed themselves in possession of devastating information on the others, yet it was Sparrow who held the cards, and who, in the end, decided the fate of the country. 

“Stupid nobles,” she had said when he found her on the balcony, after everything had been settled. “They care nothing for the people they have power over, yet they hold those lives in their hands. It’s like watching a child torture an animal, yet act surprised when they bite.”

“You are a noble,” he reminded her. “Your family is one of the leading powers in the Chantry, and thus all of Thedas.”

He stood behind her, one arm around her to let his hand cup the firm roundness of her belly, while the other raised her palm to his lips. He kissed it gently, trailing his tongue along her pulse point just as she’d done his once.

“I’m a noble only in name.” She stared out over the palace grounds, letting him nuzzle into her neck to kiss her there. “I was not raised in power, I lived on the edge of poverty. An outcast. Though I have reunited with my family, and I use their name, that hasn’t changed.”

His hands moved gently over the surface of her bump, caressing it, before landing on her hips. His mouth rested next to her ear, his voice low and soothing.

“And that is why you are perfect. Perfect to face these people, perfect to lead the Inquisition.”

She turned in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck.

“And perfect for you?”

He chuckled, mouth already against her throat. “Of course.”

The feeling of his lips on the tender areas of her neck sent heat swelling between her legs, and soon she was making soft sounds of hunger as her fingers dug into his shoulders. How he adored her, her whimpering desire and demanding mouth, the way the thought of her body against his made his passion flare and his knees weak. She was a raging fire of ecstasy, his body the fuel that kept it burning, and his sacrifice was more than willing. Tonight, he would worship her body as if she were the Maker herself, the child growing in her womb the embodiment of his world, his future, his life.

“I believe,” he whispered, hand exploring the swell of her breast, “that we are no longer needed here. Should we retire to our chambers?”

He pinched her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger, sending a wave of warm wetness between her legs. Her suspicion that they’d grown more sensitive was confirmed as he twisted it slightly, and she felt herself pulsing in anticipation. That was information she would DEFINITELY have to share.

They walked hand in hand to the room they shared, brief squeezes of the other’s fingers the only indication of the passion burning inside of them. At the threshold, Cullen opened the door, pausing for a moment, then swept Sparrow off her feet and into his arms. He carried her bridal style through the doorway before kicking it closed behind him and depositing her on the floor. Glad that she’d been required to change back into her dress before the official announcements, he reached behind her to begin work on her fastenings.

Clearly, her patience was worn far thinner than his. Before he could finish loosening her dress, she had his jacket peeled from his shoulders, his shirt unbuttoned and trousers loose at his waist. Before she could begin pushing them down to free him, he turned her, her back pressed against the warm skin of his chest. As he slowly slipped the dress off of her shoulders, his lips traced the line of her spine, until he was kneeling behind her, the curves of her backside even with his face. He cupped his hands beneath them, massaging it’s softness.

“Sparrow . . ,” he breathed, nuzzling agains the velvet mounds, “have I ever told you that you have the most perfect ass?”

She let loose a burst of silken laughter, like the rustling of crisp sheets, then bent forward, stretching her arms across the bed. Slowly, she crawled up onto it, kneeling and parting her legs wide before him. The invitation of it was more than he could handle, the slick, pink swell demanding his attention. 

His hands cupped her ass while he pressed his face between her legs, his cock already straining at his smalls. As his tongue teased at her opening, a deep, lustful moan tumbled from her throat, his name following behind. He smirked against her as his tongue reached forward, sliding across the hard nub of her clit. She was delicious, as always, his mouth watering as he lapped up the sweet honey of her arousal, her back arching to give him better access. 

He worked her into the frenzy of orgasm in record time, her breasts swaying above the mattress as his fingers and tongue carried her through. Yet as soon as the tremors of pleasure had released her, she rolled to her back, begging him for more.

“Maker above, Cullen,” she panted, “I can’t get enough of you! I need you, need you like I need the air I breathe, like the water that quenches thirst. You are everything to me.”

The passion in her voice went deeper than lust, more desperate than love alone, and he understood it completely. He felt the same.

“Tonight, above all others, I am your slave,” he whispered, mouth tracing a path along her inner thigh. “Whatever you need, whatever you want of me- it is yours. You need only ask.”

“Everything,” she breathed, eyes on fire as she looked at him. “Give me everything.”


	25. Fluffy Stuff

“Cullen.”

The man laying beside her continued to snore softly. He seemed to be dreaming pleasantly for once, or at least not having his usual nightmares, which made her feel almost bad for waking him up.

Almost.

“Cullen!” She poked him gently, watching in the dim light of the moon as his head turned towards her.

“Hmm?”

He seemed thoroughly unimpressed, barely conscious as he hummed his response. Sparrow chewed her lip, debating just letting him go back to sleep. He deserved it, after all. He’d been doting on her nonstop for weeks, doing everything he could to make sure she was safe and comfortable. He hadn’t even complained when she spent half the night tossing and turning as she tried to find a way to sleep comfortably in her changing body. She WANTED to let him sleep, didn’t she?

She sighed, resigning herself to feeling guilty, even though she knew he’d tell her not to.

“Cullen, I need an apple.”

He was silent for a moment, and she thought he might have fallen back asleep until he groaned quietly. 

“Another apple? That’s your fourth since dinner.”

“I know,” she pouted, “but I NEED it, Cullen. I’m sorry.”

He smiled softly as his eyes fluttered open.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind. I rather like all of these late night trips to the kitchens. I like bringing you the things you want, and massaging your back, and holding you close when you fall asleep on my shoulder during meetings. It makes me feel as if I’m actually useful in all of this.”

He rolled over, placing his hand on the soft swell of her belly. It was obvious now, visible easily as she laid in bed, and anytime she wore something besides the loose clothing Vivienne had ordered for her. The larger it grew, the more proud of it Cullen became. He wanted his hands on it at all times, coming up behind her and cupping his hands over it. Sparrow had to remind occasionally that it was supposed to be a secret. 

Cullen pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then to her bump, before slipping out of bed and pulling on his tunic. As he disappeared down the stairs, Sparrow smiled fondly. Motherhood had never been in her plan, if she’d ever really had one. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children, she’d just sort of assumed that it wouldn’t be an option. Life traveling wasn’t exactly the easiest even without a child, and she’d thought her life would never allow her to settle, or to find a partner who wanted to. Yet here she was.

When Cullen returned with her apple, she devoured it frantically, moaning in pleasure as he looked on. If anyone had heard her, they would have most likely assumed that he was the one doing the devouring, and that food was decidedly not involved. He chuckled at the thought, making her look at him curiously.

“I’m afraid that apple is giving you more satisfaction than I do,” he joked, brushing her hair from her face. “You sound positively indecent.”

She paused in her eating, leaning to kiss him warmly.

“Not possible. I may sound indecent, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the way you could make me sound right now. This apple is delicious, but not nearly as delicious as you are, Cullen.”

“Yet you don’t crave me the same way.”

She raised an eyebrow, swallowing the last bite of her apple before placing the core on the nightstand.

“Do I not? How would you know?”

“Because,” he replied, pulling her to rest between his legs, “you don’t wake me in the night hungering for me like you have those apples.”

“Well, I figure you deserve the opportunity to sleep sometime. And heading to the kitchens to bring me food won’t take nearly the time that the things I’d like to do with you would.”

“I could afford to lose some sleep, if you were craving me.”

“I am ALWAYS craving you now. You really haven’t noticed?” She looked up at him, his eyes bright with interest. “I could devour you at any hour, as quickly as that apple, and enjoy it infinitely more. My body aches for you constantly, desire keeping me ready for you at all times. Just thinking about you lately nearly causes me to lose myself, I’ve become so sensitive, and I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. You lick your lips, and I find myself pulsing. The smallest brush of your hand against my breast, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.”

He was enraptured, his hand cupping her face as she spoke. Even in the dim light, he could see how flushed her face was, as if she were embarrassed by the admission, completely unlike her usual self.

“Maker’s breath, Sparrow. Why didn’t you say something?”

She pressed her face into his chest, speaking shyly.

“I was afraid you’d think it was inappropriate, or find it too unsettling. I’m not just me now, I’m the future mother of your child, and you’ve been so focused on fatherhood and how the baby is doing . . . .”

“I never intended to make you feel as if I thought of you differently now.” 

He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“In fact, I feel as if I ought to make a confession myself . . . I . . . well, if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever desired you more. Something about seeing you, seeing your body swell with the life we’ve created, it . . . does something to me. I can’t tell you how many times you’ve visited me in my office and left me so aroused I can barely stand it, longing for a repeat of that afternoon beneath my desk. Or how often during meetings I’ve wanted to press my hand between your thighs, pleasuring you while everyone else remains unaware. Andraste preserve me, I can hardly stop thinking about fucking you, the way you sound and how your body looks as you come undone. Do you think all of those brushes across your breasts have been entirely accidental? I can’t keep my hands off of you!”

Sparrow began giggling softly, her hand snaking up to twist in his hair.

“We are two lecherous degenerates, you and I, aren’t we? On our way to becoming parents, yet we just want to fuck.”

“That is how we got here in the first place.”

She laughed loudly, raucously, before stripping her tunic off and tossing it away.

“Then let’s enjoy it. Thoroughly.”

She pushed Cullen down in the bed, throwing one leg over his body. The next thing he knew, her hips were across his face as she pushed his trousers down to his thighs. Her mouth wrapped firmly around his cock, sucking like she wanted to draw every ounce of his spending out at once. At first, all he could do was writhe beneath her, gasping at the intensity. Then she pressed her hips down, dragging the wet swell of her cunt across his lips. Instinctively, his mouth opened to her, lapping at the deliciousness she’d presented to him, and the moan it drew only served to heighten the incredible pleasure she was giving him. 

He grasped her hips, using his thumbs to spread her open wider, and buried his face deep between her legs. The thrusting rhythm of his tongue was as relentless as that of her hands and mouth, both urging each other towards the height of pleasure. And as his mouth worked against her, so too did his thumbs, stroking the length of her, pressing her closer around his tongue, until her frantic moans and thrusting hips told him she was on the edge of release. Then, Maker above, he realized he was as well, bucking into her mouth and moaning indecently into her cunt, even as he stroked her.

All at once, he felt the hot coil within him tighten to the point of breaking as her lusty cries hummed around him, her hips rolling and her wetness throbbing against his tongue. As she came, so did he, the heat of his spend filling her mouth. His legs trembled violently as she swallowed it, the pleasure of it all so intense he was unsure for a moment if he could live through it. Yet still, she sucked, until she’d drawn the last drop from deep within him.

She moved to lay beside him now, and he drew her close in a deep kiss. The sweetness of the apple was still on her lips, now mingling with the salty bitterness of his seed in a taste that was uniquely her. How had he managed this? To have this woman beside him who so easily handled his darkest thoughts, his filthiest fantasies, yet who also drew out so much good? That alone would have been enough of a miracle, but the Maker had blessed them with a child, on top of that. It was almost frightening. He’d never before had so much to lose.

“If we are truly going to manage to keep this secret, I certainly hope we can find the Wardens soon. There won’t be much of a way to hide it with you in armor, and I don’t like the idea of you having to fight too far along, anyway.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve spoken with Mother Giselle, as well as Vivienne and her seamstress, and they’ve assured me I’ve likely got another month or so before it becomes too obvious. And believe me, I don’t like the idea of fighting at all while in this state, but it has to be done.”

“Yes, and I will not hold you back.”

There was a brief pause as Sparrow breathed deeply. There was a conversation they needed to have, and the sooner they did, the more time they had to get used to it.

“Cullen, I’ve been thinking . . . do you think it might be better if, once it’s born, our child lives elsewhere? Only until this is all dealt with, of course.”

It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He’d been so caught up in the joy of it, he hadn’t considered exactly how risky it might be. He had no doubt that Sparrow would defend the child to her death- so would he, for that matter. But this was an enemy that they couldn’t be sure they would be prepared for, and, if the worst happened, it would give him great comfort to know that at least their child was safe.

“I . . . I suppose so. Maker, I’d not thought of that.”

He held her closely, knowing by the way her breath shuddered that she was on the verge of tears. He wasn’t exactly calm himself. The thought of being parted from their child so soon after it was born was heartbreaking.

“I’d like for your sister to take it. If you think she will.”

“I’m certain she would. But are you really alright with that? You’ve never even met her.”

“We write. And, anyway, a family that raised you must have been wonderful. I’m sure she’ll be perfect. And she’s family. Mine certainly couldn’t take it, not as prominent as they are within the Chantry. It would be too easily noticed.”

“You write to my sister?”

“Of course. She enjoys hearing what you’re up to. After all, YOU don’t write!”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the two of you writing about me.”

“Well, it’s not like I tell her everything. I certainly wouldn’t want to know a great many of the things we do if I were her. But it eases her mind, and I like to. She’s far more motherly than Emmelin, or even my own mother, and it makes me feel better.”

“If it makes you feel better, how can I deny you?” He kissed her nose sweetly. “And, as much as I hate the thought of it, I will speak to my sister about . . . .”

He found he couldn’t finish it, his mouth gone dry. 

He had just enough time to write to Mia, one of the hardest letters he’d ever written in his life, before final word came to them. The Grey Wardens were indeed hidden in Adamant, and the situation was far more dire than they’d expected. Every single mage within the Wardens was to take part in the ritual, binding demons to themselves and, in turn, giving their will over to Corypheus. In addition, Erimond had convinced the Warden Commander to bring across one of the greater demons, and he had access to Corypheus’ archdemon dragon.

“I would not say it is a lost cause,” Cullen spoke at the war table, “Corypheus and his allies must be defeated at all costs. But this will be bloody. We will lose a great many men.”

He exchanged a glance with Sparrow, both knowing what the other was thinking. Blessed by the Maker or not, it was very possible that one or both of them wouldn’t make it out. 

“I accept the risks, whatever comes,” Sparrow spoke firmly, her eyes latched on Cullen’s. “This is necessary, even if we wish it were different. We will do what we can to minimize losses, but we will not fail.”

The others made their suggestions quickly before leaving, until only Cullen and Sparrow were left. She stood, staring at the map before her and frowning, until Cullen moved around the table to stand behind her. Slipping his hands beneath the loose, dark tunic she wore, he cradled her growing belly.

“You will live,” he whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You will birth our child, and raise it well, whatever happens to me.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, kissing the other.

“We will both live. I will not raise our child without you, Cullen Rutherford.”

He gave her a quiet smile, then returned his attention to her belly. After a few moments, she leaned back against him, placing her hands over his.

“Have you thought of names?” She asked him, and he shook his head.

“Not yet. It’s taken me some time to really accept that this is happening. For so long, I though that having a family would never be possible for me.”

“Me too. It’s strange, isn’t it? How things have gone? Both of us damaged, afraid to be close to others, believing we could never have anything close to a normal life. Yet here we are, and I’ve never been happier. Despite the chaos surrounding us.”

“I only wish we could settle into something near normalcy before you give birth.”

“Normality would never suit us, Cullen.”

“Perhaps so,” he chuckled. “But I’d rather we were settled, at least.”

Silence fell within the room as he held her, his thoughts heavy in the future. Finally, he asked what had been on his mind.

“What do you want, when this is all over?” He moved to face her, taking one hand in his. “If we make it through, and the three of us survive? What sort of life do you imagine?”

She sighed. She’d thought about this many times, and it never felt easier. In all honesty, she suspected that the Inquisition would still be needed, even once Corypheus had been defeated. He hadn’t been the reason it was founded, after all. And she would always be a Trevelyan now, with the implications of that weighing on her shoulders. But she had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant.

“I’m not sure. Some days, I imagine running away, finding a small place of our own and hiding for the rest of our lives, so no one can bother us anymore. Other times, I consider filling the role that had once been expected of me- a life serving the Chantry, making appearances with you beside me throughout Thedas in the noble houses. But really,” she took a deep breath. “Really, I think anything would be fine, as long as we’re together. We will take the future as it comes, whatever it holds.”

He cupped her face tenderly.

“As long as you will have me, I will be beside you.”


	26. Adamant

Cullen helped Sparrow tug the leather armor over her head, smoothing his hands across the curve of her belly. Once it was down, he placed a light kiss behind her ear, then laced the sides as tightly as he dared, stopping when he heard her grunt. Everything inside of him tensed, begging him to find a reason to ask her to stay behind, but he knew better. As difficult as this would be, she’d never allow him, nor the rest of the men, to put their lives at stake without standing beside them. Especially since they didn’t know about the small bundle of hope she carried inside of her.

She turned to face him, leaning into his chest as they wrapped their arms around one another. For several long moments, they were quiet. Then she looked up, into his eyes.

“Be careful with yourself, alright, Cullen? I know you would protect your men at any cost, but . . . I need you.” She ran her hand over her stomach, now hidden by her armor, but only just. “WE need you.”

Smiling down at her, he chuckled dryly. “I might say the same of you. After all,” he covered the mound with his hand, “there are TWO that you must protect.”

A wry smile twisted her lips. “True enough.” With a sigh, she covered his hand with hers. “This will be the last time, until afterwards. Whatever I feel, whatever I want, it’ll have to be, unless we want one more thing to be used against us. And I won’t put any of us in danger like that.”

She turned, peeking out of the tent to glance across the dusty camp. The men were ready, waiting. On her.

She turned again to him, letting him hold her against his chest for a moment, his hand cupped around her head. Beneath his armor, his heart hammered away in his chest. This was so much, too much. Yet they must endure.

She pulled away to look up at him.

“I’ve asked my family to visit us, near the end. To come a bit early, so it won’t look suspicious. I don’t know if my parents will show- the winter has been hard on my father. But my sister will come, if no one else. Have-“ she hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Have you spoken to your sister?”

“Yes,” he breathed softly. “She will come soon. Leliana has arranged for her to be escorted through unnoticed channels, both in . . . and out.”

Out. With their child in her arms. To take them to safety, to be certain that, whatever might happen to them, a part of them continued. But away from them. It was a loaded thought, like an arrow pointed at his heart, ready to fly. Yet there was no other choice, not that they could see. If they couldn’t defeat Corypheus, if they couldn’t save the world, it would hardly matter where the child was. But Sparrow was the real target. If she were attacked, if Skyhold were to have to defend itself, their child would be put at risk. And there was the very real possibility that even if they did succeed, they may not make it out alive.

Suddenly the flaps of the tent were thrown open, Blackwall stepping through. When he saw them embracing, he moved to step out, but Sparrow gestured for him to come forward. As he did so, he looked down for a moment, then straightened his back.

“The men are ready, my lady. We await your orders.”

With a sigh, Sparrow released Cullen. “Then let’s be off.”

As she stepped towards the opening, she glanced at Blackwall over her shoulder.

“A moment, my lady. I’d like to speak with Cullen in private.”

She raised her eyebrow momentarily, then ducked out. Once she was gone, Blackwall turned towards Cullen.

“I know I may be the last man you want to see right now, or ever again-“

“Nonsense, Blackwall-“

“Please, let me,” he sighed, lowering his voice. “Let me finish. It’s not easy for me to say, and I want to get this right.” 

With a deep breath, he began again.

“I know I might be the last man you’d like to see now, or ever again. I wasn’t kind to Sparrow when we were together, whatever she’s told you. I was a selfish bastard. I used her, I slept with her time and time again KNOWING she wanted YOU, and I never troubled myself with her feelings. She’d say she knew what she was doing- she HAS said that to me. But I know if I’d truly been an honorable man, I’d have broken things off with her earlier, or never allowed things to start in the first place. But I can’t change that.”

He sighed, uselessly running his hand over his armored thigh.

“I cared for her, I still care for her, and I expect I always will. She’s got a way of getting under your skin that- well, you know well enough, I expect. But I want you to know that I’d lay my life on the line to protect her, and that, if I do, I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for you, and for her, and for that little ball of life she’s carrying. For your future, together. You were always the better man for her, Cullen. Even if it took a man like me for her to see it.”

Before Cullen could respond, Blackwall turned and left.

The battle was long, bloody, and chaotic. It had been impossible for Cullen to watch Sparrow the way he would have liked, or at all, really. He’d seen her once, just after they’d broken through the walls, when she’d promised to clear off the battlements. He hadn’t wanted to ask it of her, but he knew her skill would allow them to save more men, especially with Bull at her side. She was strong, and the others knew what was at stake. Unless there was no other way, they’d protect her. When he’d seen the dragon, or the archdemon, whatever it was, take to the battlements after her, he could do nothing but pray. Trying to do anything else would have been too much of a distraction, and put too many of his men at risk. Yet despite the chaos around him, his mind wandered back to her, wondering if she was alright, if things were going well. And he fought like their lives depended on it, like a man crazed.

And then, suddenly the archdemon was gone, flying away like it had other, better things to do. It sent a ripple of fear through his heart, but he fought on. When he saw the magister responsible for the situation, he took him happily, in chains. If anything had happened to Sparrow, he wanted a target for his venom, and who better than the man who’d orchestrated this disaster? By the time he returned, most of the fighting was done. Wardens stood side by side with Inquisition officers, clapping each other on the back, telling tales of their bravery. And among them, a ripple of gossip.

“Did you see the Inquisitor? Fell right from the sky!”

“She walked in the fade! In the flesh, she did!”

“She fell, she died, but Andraste brought her back to us. Bless her, bless her always.”

The more he heard, the tighter the ball of anxiety inside of him grew. To walk into the fade . . . ? It had been done before, with disastrous results. If Corypheus was to be believed, it was the reason he existed at all. But the talk was everywhere, and it was all the same.

When he finally found her, she was surrounded by Wardens, flanked by Bull & Sera, Blackwall & Hawke. All eyes were on her, waiting. She looked weary, propped up subtly by Blackwall and Bull as she surveyed the crowd. One of the Wardens had asked her a question, but he hadn’t heard it. He was too distracted by the way she hunched, trying not to lay her hand on her stomach. When she laid eyes on him, she straightened, trying not to give away her weakness.

“If you care at all for the future of Thedas, you will join the Inquisition. You will fight for us, doing anything you can.” Her voice was clear, stronger than she looked to Cullen’s eyes. “You may yet be susceptible to Corypheus, and his Venatori, but there is no shortage of demons to fight, and we can use your knowledge.”

She stepped from her makeshift pedestal, almost falling into Cullen’s arms as she did, but the crowd stayed, watching her. It took a sharp snap from Bull to bring them to their senses, and, slowly, they began to clear out. Her companions, along with Cullen, waited, watching, until they were nearly alone. Then they, too, drifted off, leaving Cullen and Sparrow alone. Immediately, he slipped an arm around her waist, letting her lean on him. For several long steps, they wobbled together towards the tent, until Cullen had enough. He swept her into his arms, carrying her the remainder of the distance, and didn’t put her down until he could sit her down properly, in one of the few chairs they’d brought. He kneeled before her, brushing the hair from her eyes and wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, pushing his hands away from her face.

“Yes. Just tired. Very, very tired.”

“You’re not doing this again,” he said firmly. “This was too much.”

With a smile, she looked up at him. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I’m already bursting from the armor, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy to escape the fade, once I’d gotten there.”

There was a sharp hiss as Cullen drew a breath between his teeth.

“So you did go.”

“Yes,” she spoke plainly, “I did.”

He wanted to ask her about it, about how it happened, what if felt like, and if she was certain she was alright, but he could see the dark rings around her eyes. This wasn’t the time. So instead, he began unlacing her armor, pulling it over her head and depositing it to the side. Then, he removed her boots and her leggings, leaving her in only a thin linen tunic. He cleaned her carefully with a damp cloth, then followed the same procedure with himself, until both of them were barely dressed and ready for bed. Without another word, he laid beside her, taking her into his arms, and they both slept.

Cullen woke to a strange sensation beneath his hand, a sort of rippling tap under his palm. Initially, he paid it no mind. It wasn’t the first time his mind had played tricks on him, making him feel something that wasn’t there, or that he’d had unusual spasms in his muscles. But this continued, over and over, and it felt different, too.

Sparrow moaned beneath the haze of sleep.

“Cullen, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Playing with my stomach. I know you’re excited and all, but I don’t like being woke by you pushing against my already tight belly. Really.”

Cullen’s eyes opened, and he propped himself on his elbow.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s not- ow!”

A movement caught Cullen’s eye, a flash so quick he almost missed it. Suddenly, he was on his knees by the cot, leaning over the mound of Sparrow’s belly. With both hands, he smoothed the fabric down across it, his palms and fingers spread over as much of it as he could reach. And he waited.

Then there it was, again. A firm bump against his fingers, jolting the flesh of her abdomen. His eyes grew wide, meeting Sparrow’s, as a grin broke across his face.

“Is that-“

“Yes, it is!” Sparrow was ecstatic. “It’s our child!”

Cullen leaned close, pressing his cheek to the spot before kissing it reverently.

“Hello, little one,” he murmured. “Are you alright?”

A bump against his lips had him grinning, looking up to see Sparrow laughing and crying at the same time. He leaned in close to try again.

“It’s daddy, little one. Come on, say hello for me . . . .”

Moments later, there was a sharp jolt against his cheek, one that made Sparrow grunt and Cullen laugh.

“I’ve never been so thrilled to be punched in the face!” He cried.

“Realistically, it was probably a kick,” Sparrow smirked.

“I don’t care! It was lovely, and beautiful, and perfect, and-“ he moved as she sat up on the cot, taking her face in his hands. “Exactly like you.” He put his forehead to hers, sighing as he closed his eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for this, this gift you’re giving me.” His hands slid across her stomach, then around her waist. “I never dreamed I might have this. Even among this terrible situation, this war we’re fighting . . . to have this gives me such hope. That the future can be good.”

“If you’re in it, the future is perfect, Cullen. Whatever it brings.”

“You flatter me. Though I won’t deny I feel that way about you. And this, of course,” he added, caressing her stomach.”

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. “You know, ‘this’ will need a name, sooner or later.”

“How can we name it if we don’t know if it’s a boy of a girl? Or what it looks like?”

“You have no names you like? So we at least have a choice?”

“Not at all. It seems strange, almost. Planning for an entire person before they come into the world. You don’t know anything about them, what they like, or who they’ll be, yet you have to pick a name, and clothing, and other things, as well. What if we pick a name, and they don’t like it?”

“Then they can change it,” she laughed. “But honestly, Cullen, did you ever dislike your name? Did you even think about it?”

“I suppose not.”

“They will make plenty of choices in their lifetime. I think a name is the first gift you ever receive, really. It tells you a lot about who your parents think you’ll be. It’s true, some people dislike theirs, but that’s alright, too. It’s a matter of hope. You give them something, and you hope it will fit, but, if you’re a reasonable person, it won’t hurt if it doesn’t. You did your best.”

“I suppose so.”

There were a few moments of silence before Sparrow spoke again.

“I trust it’s alright if it carries your last name?”

A wistful smile spread across his lips.

“Rutherford? Not Trevelyan? Your parents won’t mind?”

“If we were marrying beforehand, it would take your last name anyway. I don’t see why we shouldn’t go ahead. Less to change later.”

“Later? You mean . . . you do want to marry, at some point?”

“Maker above,” she muttered. “Cullen, are you an idiot? Of course I want to marry you! I just don’t want some rushed, forced wedding, simply because we’re having a child. That alone is QUITE enough to deal with amidst this mess. I won’t add in the pressure of marriage and a wedding, especially with my family involved. There would be no way to keep the whole thing secret.”

“But . . . you want to marry me? Me? With all of my faults, my lyrium problems, my anger and nightmares?”

“You’ve had no problem with lyrium withdrawal or being angry in AGES, and the only issue I have with your nightmares is the distress they cause you. And you’re perfect, at least for me. Honestly, Cullen, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“One more time,” he responded with a wry smirk. “Always, one more time.”


	27. Spirit Cleaves to Bone

Something was wrong.

She knew that like she knew her own face, like she knew the color of the sky. And she could tell no one.

She didn’t have any proof, after all. Mother Giselle and at least three other healers had looked over her now, at her insistence, and had only smiled indulgently. It was normal to be worried with your first, they’d said. You don’t know what to expect, so you expect the worst. Everything had been progressing fine, no bleeding, no pain, and moving more often than she could stand.

Maybe THAT was it.

The child had moved for the first time just after the fight in Adamant, when she’d walked in the fade and managed to come out. Since then, it was almost constantly on the move, kicking, shifting, and rolling. Often, she could hardly sleep for the movement. Yet when she’d first asked about when the child would move, and how often, she’d been told not to expect much until later, closer to the end of her pregnancy.

But Cullen was ecstatic. He’d lay his hands on her bump, feeling every nudge with growing excitement, and speak to it quietly. When she couldn’t sleep, he’d sing lullabies in an attempt to calm it, and it would rock inside of her to the gentle rhythm of his voice, until she managed to drift off for a short time. Later she’d wake to find him asleep against her belly, the child seemingly curled up beside him. Like it KNEW. Sweet, if it hadn’t seemed so strange. 

There were other things, too. Odd rushes of emotion that swept over her, like another person had taken control of her body. Josephine had been telling them about a group of bandits attacking a village, and she’d found herself suddenly on her feet in a rage, glowing with fire and her eyes dark and menacing. She was speaking to Krem in the tavern about sending the Chargers out, and suddenly she was weeping at the injustice he’d had to go through, growing up as he had. She’d grabbed his hands, sobbing, and made such a scene that she’d felt the need to return later to apologize for it. Krem, being as kind as he was, told her it was fine, but she knew he’d been embarrassed by the attention, and in front of Maryden, too. At least she hadn’t spelled out the CAUSE of the injustice.

The thing that really had her worried, though, was the way Cole had begun muttering constantly in her presence. She would usually only hear snippets, fractions of thoughts or feelings, but they were always enough to disturb her. If she asked him to repeat it, he only shook his head.

“She doesn’t want me to say.”

Finally, she approached Solas. 

As he often was, he was in his study, painting murals on the walls. They were quite beautiful, she noticed, and she regretted not taking the time to admire them before.

“What can I do for you, Inquisitor?”

She raised an eyebrow at his formal tone, then made herself comfortable leaning against his desk. With her hand resting on her stomach, she sighed.

“How many people have ever walked in the fade, Solas? In the flesh, I mean.”

“Besides the Ancient Magisters and yourself? I know of none.”

“Shit.”

Covering her eyes with her hand, she took a deep breath.

“So I suppose no one has ever done it while pregnant before.”

Solas’ eyes widened for a moment as realization dawned.

“I see. Is something troubling you, my friend?”

Sparrow patted her stomach gently, then cupped her hands below it. There were a thousand things troubling her, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to ask about any of them. Besides that, she’d gotten the feeling lately that Solas wasn’t always being completely truthful, so she had no idea if asking him would be helpful. Still, it wasn’t like she had a lot of choices.

“I don’t KNOW that anything is wrong. But something feels . . . off. It has since I came out of the fade, in Adamant.” He looked at her, clearly intrigued, as she sighed. “There was no movement, not a hint or a whisper, not a flutter of it before. Then, suddenly, right after Adamant, it’s moving like crazy. I was told to expect to be unsure at first, that it wouldn’t be very strong, but sometimes it feels like she’s punching a hole through my stomach.”

“She?” An amused smile touched his lips. “You are so certain it’s a girl?”

“That’s the other thing. Anytime I’m around Cole, if he has to refer to the child at all, it’s always she. And ‘she’ apparently has some strong opinions on things, talking to Cole all of the time. He won’t even tell me about it.”

Just as she was finishing her sentence, Cole himself came in. Nervously, his eyes cast between Solas and Sparrow, until Solas invited him to speak.

“She says I can tell you now,” he said to Sparrow. She didn’t want me to before. She was afraid.”

Solas scoffed. “Afraid of what? And who is afraid, exactly?”

“She is.” He pointed towards Sparrow’s stomach. “She didn’t want YOU to be afraid.”

His eyes met hers, full of the same innocent sincerity they always were. Whatever he was, whatever he’d become, he wouldn’t lie.

“Again, afraid of what, Cole?” Solas asked, and the boy’s eyes cut towards him briefly before leaning close to Sparrow.

“She wanted to know what it was like. She was curious, like me. Only . . . not like me. I made my body real, after being a person. She is a spirit, making a person in a body.”

Sparrow’s eyebrows raised as she tried to understand the full implications of what she’d just been told. It fit, it seemed right . . . but she wasn’t sure it was what he’d meant. 

“A spirit, making a person? Are you saying-“

“You were there. You were . . . real. And she wanted to be real, too. REALLY real, not pretend real. More real than me. There was space, and she went inside. Now she’s here.”

He put his hand carefully across Sparrow’s stomach, long fingers stretching to cover almost the entire space. As if on cue, the child inside her body pressed against his hand, gently nudging, as if trying to touch him. Again, he looked up at Sparrow.

“She liked you. She liked your love, with Cullen, the way you thought about him while you were in the fade. He’s your home, and she wanted to know what that kind of love was like. And you love her, and he loves her, and she likes his voice. It’s soft, kind, comforting. Rumbling echo in the darkness, warm, happiness inside. He loves her and he doesn’t even know her yet, because he loves you.”

She knew it, all of it. It was absolutely true, because she FELT it, exactly as he’d described.

“Do you talk with her often, Cole?” She asked, wiping a tear away.

“No,” he shook his head. “Only when she calls me. Sometimes she can be very loud. It’s . . . hard. To wait. She’s trapped inside of you, and inside of her- her new body- until she’s strong enough to come.”

Soon after he’d finished speaking, Solas started asking questions, but Sparrow didn’t bother to listen. All of her thoughts were focused on what she’d just been told, and how it might affect her, affect Cullen. Given what he’d experienced, would he even accept the child? Or would her visions of a perfect future together be shattered?

Of course he noticed something was wrong, as soon as he saw her. Any other time, she’d have loved it, that he knew her so well and could read her so easily. Today, she’d have preferred a little time to gather her thoughts. She had no idea how to explain any of this to him.

“Cullen, you love me, right? Even though I’m a mage?”

He chuckled to himself, drawing her close. “Of course.”

“And . . . nothing could change that? No matter what?”

A frown crept into his lips. “What’s wrong, Sparrow? Has something happened?”

“Yes. Well- no. But . . ,” she sighed. “I’m not sure. I talked to Cole, finally. And Solas, too. There’s something-“

Suddenly his hand clenched tightly around hers. “Is this about when you went into the fade?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It is. Cole believes that . . .while I was there . . . somehow, a spirit entered our child.”

“Possessed?”

Her blood ran cold at the mere thought, and at the way Cullen stiffened beside her, but she shook her head.

“I don’t think so, not exactly. Cole said it was . . . more like he is. Only, instead of becoming a person, and then creating a body, it’s more . . . the opposite of that? Honestly, I’m not sure, I could barely pay attention. I was too worried, about how you would feel.”

“What do you mean?”

His face was a mask of concern, mingling with enough fear to set her on edge. 

“I know what happened with you before- it colored your feelings about mages, and spirits. You’ve been afraid, and you’ve had good reason to feel that way. I just-“ 

She drew in a sharp breath, trying to control her feelings, but it was no good. When she spoke again, it took the form of a sob, her breath caught behind the words.

“I don’t want you afraid of me . . . afraid of our child! Whatever has happened, I need you here, beside me, but I know I can’t ask you to change your feelings, or face something you have every right to be disturbed by. This, whatever it is, whatever’s happened, it’s not ideal, and I would not have chosen it- but we’re here! And this is our child, Cullen, whatever else it is.”

She threw herself into his arms, half expecting him to push her away in disgust. Instead, he pulled her closer, stroking her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

“I am afraid, but not for the reasons you think. Yes, I worry what this means for our child- how it will affect it, the ways it will grow and change, and if there will be things that need to be done for it to have a happy, fulfilling life. But whatever it is, we will handle it, together.” He cupped her face with one hand, kissing her before caressing her bump. “This is our child, before anything else. I would not abandon you, nor it, and I do not fear it.”

He pulled her against his chest, holding her tightly as he rested his chin lightly on top of her head.

“What I am afraid of, more than anything, is losing you. One, or both of you. I . . . I’ve never been a father. I have no experience with childbirth, or raising a child. Each day, another worry seizes me, and I don’t know what I can possibly do to prevent any of it. It terrifies me.”

“That’s all? Nothing else?”

“No. Nothing else.” Releasing her, he looked into her eyes. “You’ve changed me, Sparrow, in so many ways. Helped me to embrace the darkest parts of myself, instead of fearing them, and learn to control them. You encourage me, and protect me, and you love me, despite everything. I could do nothing less for you, or for our child.”

“You’ll be a wonderful father, Cullen.”

“I certainly hope so,” he murmured, hands sliding over her stomach. After a moment of silence, Sparrow cleared her throat, then smiled softly at Cullen.

“Cole says that it’s a girl, you know.”

“A girl?” He smiled wistfully. “I’d have a daughter . . . .”

“Could you handle a daughter, Cullen? If she were wild, like me?”

With a kiss to the tip of her nose, he sighed, “I’d hope for nothing less.”


End file.
